A Hundred Separate Lines
by floorplanhobo
Summary: He's an arrogant writer, full of cynicism and apathy, trying to survive a book tour. She's the cheerful journalist who is following him around, attempting to write a profile about him. It's always complicated when opposites attract. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi. My heart and the title of this fic belong to Panic! At The Disco (the title is an excerpt from their song "New Perspective"). **

**Author's note: Credit to marieloveseclare for giving me this idea and brainstorming with me. She has a wicked mind, I tell you. Props to articgrey at LiveJournal and her (non-Degrassi) fic The Heart Rate of A Mouse, because it certainly helped me get in the right mindset for this fic. Also, thank you to ArentYouSophiaLoren_8887 for her suggestions. This is a departure from my usual writing style (I usually write 3****rd**** person POV, both Eli and Clare). I will continue to update**_** Somewhere Across Forever**_**, I just needed to post this fic too.  
><strong>

**Rated M for: Language, mature situations, sexual content. **

_"I feel the salty waves come in, I feel them crash against my skin and I smile as I respire because I know they'll never win. There's a haze above my TV that changes everything I see, and maybe if I continue watching I'll lose the traits that worry me."_

_**New Perspective, Panic! At The Disco **_

"Rise and shine, my Gothic sleepyhead."

The sun starts burning my eyelids as soon as Adam enters the room, and I want to kill him. The headache starts setting in as I blink, the memories of last night hitting me suddenly, and an exasperated groan escapes my lips. I'm never drinking again, I promise.

"Fuck you," I mumble, wanting to be left alone. "I regret the day I gave you a key to my apartment, you ungrateful little minion."

"Nice to see that I don't have to kick someone out this morning," says Adam cheekily, and I snort.

"Twice, Torres. You kicked a girl out only twice," I remind him, trying to pretend that I'm hurt by his comment. Adam continues laughing as he fusses around the room, muttering something under his breath. I sit on my bed and rub my eyes as I try to stay awake.

"Here," says Adam nonchalantly, throwing a few newspapers at me.

"Adam, my head is killing me. I can't read shit," I groan.

"Aw, now I have to read to you?" mocks Adam. "What's next? Do I have to go ahead and start writing your novels? Because I have been brainstorming, and I possibly-"

"Stop being such a smartass," I smirk. "And start telling me what's going on, my beloved publicist."

Adam smiles at me, and I notice that even after all these years, his boyish expression remains the same. We've been best friends since kindergarten, when he was that _other_ person, and I feel suddenly grateful that he works with me. He is probably the only constant in my life, the only person who I can completely trust without having to worry about the consequences. But I don't tell him this; I assume he knows.

"Well, first of all," says Adam, picking up some of my clothes. "There is another tabloid rumor about your personal life."

"Ah," I grimace. I've never been much of a social butterfly, causing people to speculate about my behavior. That just isn't me, I dislike crowds- No, let me correct that. I dislike the _people_ in the crowd, so snobby and fake, always wanting to discuss literature with me. People who don't know the difference between Taylor Caldwell and Stephenie Meyer, people who think that because they read all the Harry Potter novels they have some sort of literary authority, people who think that we are at the same level.

Yeah, I dislike them all.

"Apparently, you're gay," deadpans Adam, and I stare at him in disbelief.

"Really?" I blurt, finding the new rumor completely amusing.

"Yup. Do you want me to inform Imogen of this new development?" asks Adam, sarcasm ringing in his voice.

"Please, maybe that would keep her away," I joke, thinking of the girl who has been in my life on and off for almost two years. "Where did this rumor come from?"

"I have no idea, but apparently your gay lover is speaking out," says Adam, grabbing one of the newspapers from the bed. "Don't worry, Drew is working on it. Threaten them with a libel lawsuit and they'll apologize in the next issue."

"Drew, the super agent," I sneer, and Adam chuckles along. "Besides me being gay, what else is new?"

"Oh, you got an incredible review in the New York Times," says Adam calmly, and I feel wide-awake.

"What?" I blurt, excitement running through my veins. Adam picks up another newspaper and unfolds it carefully, his eyes scanning the page.

"_In a world of unoriginal thoughts, Elliot Gold succeeds at keeping our interest_," reads Adam, and my mind is reeling. "_He is the next Chuck Palahniuk, and with his dark prose and complex plots and overall mystique, Gold is the best author you'll ever read. Utopia is this year's masterpiece._"

"_The next Chuck Palahniuk_," I muse, not able to believe it. "Fuck. Fuck, oh god."

"Isn't it amazing?" grins Adam. "Dude, you're number two on their best-seller list. _Utopia_ is number two on the New York Times best-seller list. Number two, man."

I get out of bed quickly and hug Adam tightly, and we both laugh as I try to comprehend what he just said. "You should have started with this instead of the gay rumor thing," I say, my face flushed. I've never felt so excited in my entire life, and I think immediately of calling my parents. And maybe Imogen. Maybe.

"Okay, you need to get ready for that lunch meeting," says Adam, glancing at his watch.

"Remind me again why we're doing this meeting?" I protest, recalling the unpleasant conversation I had with Drew and Adam just a couple of weeks ago.

"It's a good idea," says Adam pragmatically. "Dixon Magazine is probably the biggest arts magazine in Canada, and a profile about you would increase books sales, I'm sure."

"Do I really want to be more accessible to the public?" I question. "And do I really want a mouth-breathing journalist following me around for three months, asking questions, looking at my lifestyle? This is just a ridiculous idea."

"We've had this argument before, stop whining, and just go take a shower because you reek of alcohol," insists Adam, pushing me playfully. "Come on, I'll go make some coffee and wait for Drew while you get ready."

"This is why they think I'm gay," I joke, messing Adam's hair with my hand. "It's like we are a married couple."

"Gross," says Adam, mockingly disgusted. "Go and get clean, and hurry up."

"Yes, love," I say sarcastically, and Adam leaves the bedroom.

_**Later**_

"You have a stray strand of hair there... yeah, fixed," says Drew as he leans in and messes with my hair, earning a glare from me.

"Drew, I appreciate your attention to detail, but stop it," I snap, and Adam starts chuckling as he looks at the menu. The server finally starts taking our orders and I ask for rum and coke and some cheese fries, which causes Drew to shake his head at me. Who cares, I'm not on a diet and I'm not writing anything at the moment. I'm not a fucking kid, I'm twenty-five years old, goddamn it. Drew needs to get over himself.

"This journalist person is late," I say instead, watching the server walk away.

"Journalists, those leeches," mumbles Drew, fixing his tie. "But this is a necessary step, I believe, for you to achieve mainstream appeal, which means higher sales and more money."

"Ah, I remember when I used to write for fun," I mock.

"Goldsworthy, calm down," warns Adam.

"We're in public, Torres, I don't know who is this Goldsworthy you're talking about," I wink. Drew smiles smugly; he's proud of his little plan to bury my entire past, and I shrug resentfully. Not that I mind having a pseudonym, but sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I could still be myself. Elijah Goldsworthy, the Goth kid that people stared at while walking down the hallways at school. The guy who used to be madly in love with his rebellious high school girlfriend, and who used to hang out with his best friend at the most random places. Sometimes I don't want to be Elliot Gold, the best-selling writer who is unapproachable and arrogant and a complete asshole. But I guess I _am_ unapproachable and arrogant and a complete asshole, maybe I'm just trying to deny it to myself.

No wonder Drew and Adam want this profile to be written; they want everyone to think that I'm a nice guy. Well, I'm not, I stopped being nice after Julia's death and there is no way that I will ever be the same. I think of Imogen, who wants to save me so badly, and I feel sorry for her. I shouldn't, since we're not really exclusive and she still manages to run around and fuck other guys, but I still pity her. I pity her because she sits there, expecting me to tell her that she's the love of my life, that we need to settle down, that we need to get married. Well, I hope that she's not holding her breath.

I can feel Adam staring at me, concern in his eyes, and I clear my throat. I give him a weak smile and Drew starts to rant about book sales and the book tour, and I can't handle his voice. I shake my head as the server comes back with my drink, and I drain the glass in just one gulp.

"Easy," says Drew. "We don't want you to be wasted when the reporter gets here. Bad first impression."

"Because a drunk writer would be such a shocker," I say sardonically.

"Eli, I'm just trying to help you out," grins Drew, and I want to punch him.

"You've helped a lot," I snap. "You've managed to get me on the Times' best-seller list, good job."

"That was your writing, not me," says Drew, but I notice the smugness in his tone and my throat aches for another drink.

I bury my face in my hands and I just want to get out of here. I don't care about this stupid profile, I don't care about Drew's plans for my career, and I don't give a-

"Drew Torres? Sorry I'm late."

I look up and a jolt of electricity pierces my heart as I stare at the young woman standing in front of us. She's smiling nervously and I examine every single inch of her, my mouth slightly open. She is nervously tucking a curl behind her ear, her fingertips smudged with ink. A press badge is hanging around her neck and she seems slightly breathless as she takes off her messenger bag and sits down. Her blue eyes glance at all of us apologetically, but I can't stop staring at her. She is wearing a denim jacket over a casual turquoise dress, which I'm sure brings out her eyes, not that I'm a fashion expert or anything. I don't think I've ever seen such a beautiful girl in my life.

Fuck. Is she the one who is supposed to follow me around? Oh.

"Clare Edwards, A&E writer for Dixon Magazine," she says, shaking Drew's hand, then Adam's. My hands are under the table, clutching my knees anxiously. "I'm writing the Elliot Gold profile."

She looks at me with determination in her eyes, and I feel affronted.

"I expected a guy," says Drew bluntly, and I can feel Adam freak out. He is a publicist, after all.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Edwards," nods Adam, and pokes me with his elbow.

"Yeah, hello," I mumble. Good job, Elijah, amazing choice of words. And you call yourself a writer.

"I'm not a guy, but I'm a good writer," says Clare cheerfully, not dazed by Drew's coldness. "I just want to tell you that I'm quite excited about this profile, and I'll do my very best to write a fair representation of Mr. Gold's life."

"About that," starts Drew. "We need to discuss certain aspects of this. Yes, you will be following him around and asking questions but... some things, I will need to read before publishing and tell you what I think."

"Are you trying to tell me how to write a profile?" asks Clare, and I am amazed at the subtle defiance in her voice. "Or are you asking me to slant it to your advantage?"

Wow. This girl is not a pushover at all.

The server brings me another drink and my cheese fries as Drew glares at Clare, dislike etched on his face. "No, I never said that," says Drew, and Adam sighs impatiently.

"Miss Edwards, here are the rules," says Adam in his unnerving professional tone, a tone that is still alien to me. "You will have full-access to everything in this book tour, but any pictures you take will be reserved for your publication only. No postings on your personal social networking sites, no leaks to other press or coworkers, etcetera, etcetera."

"Fair enough," says Clare, scribbling down everything Adam said. "Can you explain to me the details of this tour? My editor went through them with me, I just need confirmation."

She glances at me as I eat, and I feel uncomfortable. I know that I should be more talkative, but damn it, I don't know her and my head is killing me. She needs to stop looking at me like that, like she's studying me. I don't want to be analyzed.

"We leave next Monday. A month and a half through major Canadian cities," drawls Drew, still sounding upset. "Then we'll have a two-week break, then the world tour starts. New York, LA, Dallas, Mexico City, Paris, Berlin, Madrid and London."

I continue to chew as I listen to Drew talk, and I just want to punch something. All this traveling will kill me; all these book signings and giving interviews and talking to people will be the death of me. Fucking Drew and his world domination plans.

"I sure hope you like tour buses, Miss Edwards," chuckles Adam, and Clare stares at him.

"Excuse me?"

"The Canadian tour... we'll be in a bus for it," explains Adam. "Elliot doesn't like to fly if he can avoid it."

"Oh," says Clare, glancing at me again. "You don't like to fly? Interesting."

"Compelling detail about an eccentric writer, I'm sure," I retort.

"Very," she replies, and she sounds like she's about to laugh. "Don't worry, Mr. Gold, I will try not to bother you too much. I will be a wallflower."

I just smirk at her and look away, slightly intimidated by her confidence.

"Do you want to order something?" asks Adam politely.

"I'm sure she has to leave," interjects Drew, and Clare nods, still looking oblivious about Drew's rudeness.

"I do, I have to cover an art exhibit," she smiles, and my heart stops. Her smile is like instant poison, and I feel my insides recoil as she stands up. "I will keep in touch with you, and I guess I'll see you next Monday."

Drew and Adam stand up to shake her hand, but I remain in my seat. She nods politely at me and walks away, the sound of her high heels fading with every step. Adam sits down but Drew pulls out his phone and grunts something, stepping away from the table.

"Your brother is a chauvinistic pig," I mention casually. "Did you see his face when he saw that our reporter is a beautiful girl?"

Adam drinks some water and snorts at me, shaking his head. "He can be an ass," he admits. "Also... I noticed how you were looking at her. Keep it in your pants, Eli."

Was I that obvious? I eat the last fries and wipe my fingers on the napkin, a smirk on my lips. "She's not my type, Adam," I say coldly. "And I'm with Imogen, remember?"

"Imogen, the girl you refuse to call your girlfriend," muses Adam, and I punch him playfully in the shoulder. "But yeah, I know she's not your type… but you're you, and I know you. You get lonely and drunk and you'll fuck anything that crosses your path."

I try to argue with him but I know that he's right. After all, he was there with me when Julia died; he saw how I didn't handle the situation well at all. He's been with me during my darkest moments, so of course he knows. Of course he knows how I fuck up, how I deal with my anxiety, and I just stare at my empty glass.

"Maybe I should order a coke," I say, trying to humor Adam. "No rum this time."

"Sounds like a good idea," approves Adam. Drew comes back and sits down, and I listen to Adam complain about Drew's behavior during the meeting. The brothers argue for what seems an eternity, but I stop paying attention. I keep thinking of Clare Edwards, of her piercing stare, of her defiant attitude. I think of her blue eyes and full lips, and I feel my heart flutter, which shocks me.

It's a good thing that she's not my type, right?


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi. My heart and the title of this fic belong to Panic! At The Disco (the title is an excerpt from their song "New Perspective"). All the quotes from Eli's "book" belong to me. **

**Author's note: I have no idea what Imogen is like, so this might be extremely OOC for all I know, haha. Um, thanks for the reviews! Also, I really like Bianca… but Eli doesn't. **

"_Are you worth your weight in gold? Because you're behind my eyelids when I'm all alone." _

_**Hurricane, Panic! At The Disco**_

_**A week later**_

"Oh god."

I raise an eyebrow as Imogen starts moaning loudly, her fingernails digging hard into my back. I haven't even started and she's already screaming? She must be faking it. This shouldn't surprise me because Imogen is a professional liar; four out of five words that come out of her mouth are untrue. I guess it comes with being a law major or whatever. It's okay; I lie to her all the time as well. It's an equal partnership once you think about it.

I notice a bite on her collarbone and I know that it's not mine. I sigh loudly as I thrust faster into her, just wanting to end this whole ordeal already, and Imogen's moans fill my ears. This is what sex between us is like: it's almost an obligation, a burden, because we both are cowards and don't want to end this.

Oh, yeah, and because I think that she wants to marry me. I'm a famous, kind-of wealthy author after all. She doesn't really love me, I know that. I think she pities me.

I kiss her and she tastes like cigarettes, I taste like bourbon, and this is just delightful. Yeah. My lips attack hers zealously since it's the last time we'll have sex before I leave, before I go on the book tour. Book tour. Clare Edwards. Those fucking blue eyes.

I've been thinking about her ever since that damn lunch meeting, and I can't stop. I looked up all of her articles and read them, amazed by her talent. Her writing is simple yet effective, almost effortless. The few reviews she's written are borderline perfection, and I feel threatened. Just a little.

It makes me happy that I will be able to talk about writing with her, and then I realize that we are going to spend weeks and weeks together. I don't know why, but I wonder what she's like in bed. I wonder what kind of sounds she makes, if she's loud or quiet.

"Fuck," I groan, feeling more aroused than ever. This is not right, I shouldn't be thinking of someone else while fucking Imogen. I know that my standards are not that high, but somehow, I feel slightly dirty.

My lips close around Imogen's earlobe and I suck hard on it, trying to forget about the journalist. Imogen starts screaming, muttering something I can't really make out, and I start shaking as my orgasm overpowers me.

I sigh deeply as soon as I'm finished and I know that Imogen didn't come, but at this point I don't really care. "I'm going to miss you so much," she lies. "I can't believe you're leaving in a couple hours." I lean in for a kiss and I desperately want to love her. But in the back of my mind I know that I will never love again, not like I loved Julia. And I'm okay with it.

"Same," I say. She must know that I'm lying, there is no way she can't detect the insincerity in my voice. Then again, all of her lying might have impaired her by now.

Her eyes are still closed and she is sighing contentedly, and I'm sure that she is thinking of someone else. I'm silent as my hands caress her skin, my thoughts driving me slightly insane.

"Will you behave?" she asks, not opening her eyes.

"Will you?" I smirk, and she says nothing. Because we both know that we won't, that the moment we say goodbye we're both going to look for the next available person. Well, I know she will.

"You know I love you," she says, avoiding my question. These are the lies that make me such a cynic, such an apathetic human being. I'm just looking at her flushed face and she opens her eyes, a wry smile on her lips. I try not to look disappointed when the eyes looking back at me are the darkest of browns.

Not blue. No, not blue.

_**Later**_

"Do you like it? Tell me, do you love it?" asks Drew in an impatient voice.

We're standing in the back parking lot of the bookstore, staring at the gigantic monster of a bus that is in front of us. I don't find it special or amazing, but I have to humor Drew or he will lose his mind.

"Yes, Drew," I say for the hundredth time, rubbing my temple as my agent jumps up and down in front of the tour bus. "It's great."

"Awesome, awesome," grins Drew, patting me on the shoulder. "After the book signing we'll meet back here and we'll go to Ottawa."

"Five hour drive, yay," says Adam unenthusiastically. I know that all of them would rather fly but they have to stick with me, I'm the author. I'm their boss. I don't say anything, though, I don't want to sound conceited.

"How's Imogen?" asks Drew out of the corner of his mouth as we walk back to the bookstore and I hide my hands in the pockets of my black skinny jeans. Adam is scribbling notes on his planner, walking silently behind us.

"She's all right," I say, not wanting to talk about her. "How's Bianca? Still pissed off because you're abandoning her for a month?"

Drew laughs nervously as I bring up his possessive wife, but says nothing. Nobody likes to answer my questions, but I'm supposed to answer all of theirs. My life is so fucking unfair sometimes.

"You get your own room in the bus," says Drew, changing the subject. "There are six bunks in the bus. One of those will stay empty for now. One for Adam, one for Zane, one for DiMarco, one for me and one for the journalist."

We open the door to the break room, which is empty, and I look around searching for-

"Where's the journalist?" I ask casually. "Whatever her name is."

Clare. Clare Edwards.

"Ugh, her," groans Drew venomously. "She should be here soon. I talked to her several times on the phone last week, she's such a bitch."

"Whoa," says Adam, coming out of his silent note taking. "Drew, please be nice."

"I told her not to ask you anything about your past," says Drew. "And she was like, _'Mr. Torres, I will ask whatever I find suitable to ask.'_ What is up with that?"

"Yeah, god forbid that a woman decides to defy you," I mock, and Drew's face goes purple.

"Just looking out for you, man," shrugs Drew, and Adam gives me a little look. We're both thinking about Drew's messed up relationship with his wife. Bianca gives him hell for everything and Drew takes it silently, never complaining in front of her. In return, he is an asshole to every woman in the world.

"No. No."

I could recognize that voice anywhere, and I turn around to face Zane Park, who is walking in holding a huge backpack. "Johnny is putting the rest of my stuff in the bus," says Zane, pulling out a comb from his back pocket. He starts fixing my hair and I just stand still, knowing that Zane is frustrated with me.

"Your hair looks terrible," he says, his friendly voice mocking me.

"Sorry, haven't had time for a haircut," I chuckle, smiling at him.

"Well, if you didn't abandon your stylish for months like you always do, this wouldn't be a situation," retorts Zane playfully. "This is going to be fun. Spending more than a month with all you lovely people in a smelly bus."

"We're not rockstars, we don't sweat," interjects Adam, and we all laugh for an entire minute. Drew is frantically making calls in his phone but I try to ignore him. I'm already feeling stressed about the impending book signing, about the people I'll have to shake hands with, about having to read excerpts of my book in front of them.

I hate this.

The bookstore manager walks into the break room and greets us in a friendly manner, eyeing me suspiciously. I'm used to the looks I attract because of the clothes I wear, the way I walk, the way I talk. Whatever, people can judge me as much as they want. I see Johnny walk in and I wave at him, and he waves back quietly. He's a shy guy, but a very professional bodyguard (if you want to call him that) and the best driver I've ever met.

"There," says Zane, a satisfied smile on his face. "You look stunning."

"Watch it, I don't want Riley to punch me," I smirk.

"Well, we did read that tabloid article about your new sexual preferences," winks Zane. "It's a shame you're not my type. Too arrogant and skinny for my taste."

"Ouch, my heart," I mock. Other people are coming in, and I'm starting to feel suffocated, but on the outside I'm playing it cool. I keep looking at the door and glancing at my watch, and I wonder if Drew scared Clare away.

Well, they can always send another journalist. It's not like I wanted to see her or anything, she just seemed like a nice girl. I've only seen her once, so my heart shouldn't feel this heavy because of her absence, perhaps I'm just getting sick.

"She's here," whispers Adam into my ear, and I turn around.

She's wearing a purple dress and the same denim jacket she was wearing when we met. She grabs the badge Drew hands her, placing it around her neck. She is holding an enormous bag and Johnny walks over to her, taking it away quickly. She looks flustered and nervous as she bites her lower lip, glancing around. She keeps looking around and suddenly, our eyes meet.

My stomach lurches over and over, and my palms get sweaty almost immediately. My heartbeats are all over the place and I wonder if the people surrounding me can hear them. The room feels hot and I clear my throat several times as I wipe my hands on my jeans, and she walks over to me.

Fuck, I'm not ready to talk to her. I don't think I'm able to speak at all.

"First stop of the tour, huh?" she chuckles, and her voice is like music.

"Yeah, look at all this madness," I manage to blurt out, waving my hand around. Damn it, Eli, stop grinning like an idiot.

"You must be excited," she continues, and I notice that she's holding a recorder in her hand. Of course. She's not talking to me because she wants to, but because she has to. It's her job, but this is bothering me in a way that surprises me.

"Book signings are the most exciting things ever," I say sarcastically. "I'm shaking."

She laughs and I feel a hand close around my wrists, and I look at Drew. He raises an eyebrow at me and I know what it means. We've been working together for too long now, we have a language of our own.

"Show time," I say as I wink at Clare, and she continues to smile at me. I walk away from her as my heartbeats return to normal, and Drew pushes the door open. I can hear some girls screaming, and this always baffles me. I'm a scrawny writer, not Justin Bieber, but I guess that some girls are into me. Amazing.

The bookstore manager is talking to me but I'm not really paying attention; I've done readings and signings before, I'm a pro at this. I just nod along and pretend to listen, my apathy getting the best of me.

There's a small stage set on the middle of the store and I clumsily step on it, trying to look confident. I'm dying on the inside, but I can't let it show. Adam hands me a copy of my book, one of the pages marked carefully, and I give him a little smile. He nods at me and I wonder what I would do without him. Probably kill Drew and shoot myself afterward. I chuckle at my own morbid thoughts and more girls scream.

"Hey," I say into the microphone and my eyes search through the crowd, and I see her. Clare is talking to some girls and taking notes, frowning in concentration as the girls yap away excitedly.

"Thanks for being here," I say modestly. "It means a lot to me. Um, I'm going to read an excerpt from _Utopia_ now."

Well, so much for being a pro, because that was awkward. But nobody seems to care, so I look down at the book and stare blankly at the page, my own words looking foreign to me.

"It's this sensation of feeling godlike," I read. "Of being fearless. Of living this dream. But whenever I think of her, it all disappears. Because she is dead, because we are mortal. Because we end."

I continue reading but now my thoughts are of Julia._ Utopia_ is dedicated to a cryptic J, and only Drew and Adam know who it is. And my parents.

I've never told Imogen about Julia, it's unnecessary. If I described Julia to her, she would freak out and everything would start making sense to her. Imogen resembles Julia physically, perhaps a bit too much. Their personalities are completely different, though, and that's what I have to remind myself every day. Imogen is not Julia. No one will ever be Julia, therefore, I will always prefer loneliness to company.

"The sensation of not being able to breathe," I continue, and I look at the admiring faces in front of me. They are hanging on to every word, some of them are even crying, but it doesn't move me. Nothing does lately. "Because she was oxygen. Because people leave, because people die. Because air ceases to exists, and without air, life is no longer plausible. I'm not real. I'm a ghost."

I close the book and people start applauding and I take in the applause, trying to hold on to something real. Because I wasn't lying when I wrote that.

I _am_ a ghost.

_**Later**_

I can't sleep, and I'm just staring at the ceiling helplessly. A bunk would be much better for me, but here I am, in an awkward room in a tour bus, with everything shaking around me. It was supposed to be a five-hour drive to Ottawa, but Johnny informed us of an accident, which caused traffic to back up.

I get tired of not being able to sleep and I get out of bed, rearranging my boxers and t-shirt as I open the door. Everybody is asleep and Johnny is the only one awake since he's driving, and I walk down the narrow hallway, glancing at the bunks. I arrive to the small lounge area between the bunks and the driver's seat and I see Clare sitting on one of the couches, her nose buried in a book.

"Oh," I say, words betraying me.

She looks up and smiles, and I notice that there is a reporter's notebook next to her, scribbles all over the pages. "Hello there," she says cheerfully.

I sit next to her, a reasonable distance between us, and she puts her book down. "Sucks about the traffic," she says, trying to make conversation.

"Yeah," I sigh. "That was a good reading, huh?"

I look at my fingers, which are covered in black marker, and I grin. "It was funny when that lady asked you to sign her bra," giggles Clare.

"Not the first time," I admit.

"I bet you have a lot of stories," she says, and I sense when she reaches for her recorder.

"Can we talk off the record tonight? I'll be able to bore you for a month," I say, and she shuffles uncomfortably in her seat.

"Sure," she says anyway, and looks at me. "Off the record, do I have to call you Mr. Gold all the time? Drew told me to."

Drew. That little bastard.

"Nah," I smirk, and she blushes. "Off the record, call me Eli."

"Eli," she echoes. "I didn't know Elliots liked to be called Eli."

"Some of us do," I lie, raising my eyebrows mockingly. "So, Edwards. You're a journalist."

"Last time I checked," she says, and I enjoy her sarcasm.

"I read some of your articles," I say nonchalantly. "I have to admit, you are quite talented. Especially that profile on that community theatre guy, that was very refreshing to read."

"Wow, I'm flattered," she says sincerely. "I mean, you are _the_ Elliot Gold, the next Chuck Palahniuk, after all. I read that review, you know."

"I wonder what Chuck has to say about that," I chuckle. "He's probably like, _'who the hell is this fucker?'_"

We both laugh and I feel calm for the first time in weeks, my cheeks hurting from all the smiling I'm doing. There is something about Clare that makes me feel comfortable, which is quite strange, considering that I'm usually very cynical around strangers.

"I'm the only woman in here," she points out calmly, and I nod.

"Not my fault," I say. "Drew is the one doing the hiring, he doesn't trust women. If I didn't know him better I would say he hates all of them."

"That's lovely," chuckles Clare. "He did give me a lot of attitude over the phone last week."

"So I heard," I say, my tone apologetic. "Sorry about that."

"Not your fault, is it?" she smiles, and my insides are mush. We both stay quiet for a while, and I'm trying not to throw up because of the nerves corroding my mind.

"I like your pajamas," I say stupidly. Wow, my game is off. Not that I'm flirting with her, because I'm not, I'm just trying to be friendly.

Clare looks down at her outfit, smiling at the teddy bears on her pajama pants. "Well, I am the only woman in here," she repeats. "Would you rather have me walk around naked?"

I choke nervously and start coughing, the image of her naked body causing me to freak out. She just sits there and smiles calmly, the opposite of my own behavior, and I shake my head fervently.

"No, no, of course not," I lie.

"I'm kind of sleepy now," she says, glancing at her watch. "Ottawa is just a couple of hours away, but I think that I will try to take a nap."

"I'll just… sit here and perhaps talk to Johnny," I mumble.

"Good night, Eli," she says, gathering all of her stuff and standing up.

"'Night, Edwards," I say after her as I watch her walk away. I rub my eyes frantically, trying to reorganize my thoughts, because Clare Edwards is breaking me apart without knowing.

Fuck. I like her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi.**

**Author's note: My attempt at making up for that horrid season finale. Thanks to all my Twitter followers who gave suggestions for this chapter. You are awesome! **

"_I was fine, just a guy living on my own, waiting for the sky to fall, then you called and changed it all... doll."_

_**Sarah Smiles, Panic! At The Disco **_

_**Five days later**_

"Air, air, air."

Adam pushes me to the side as he gets out of the bus, causing the rest of the crew to start laughing. I knew that the trip would be hazardous on Adam, but he knows exactly _why_ I don't like to fly, so his sacrifice makes me love him even more.

Best friend, indeed.

We step out and take in the sight of the glorious hotel where we will be staying for the next three days, Sure, being on the road is fun, but I always look forward to the places where we settle in for a bit longer, gives the sensation of home.

Not that I have one. Maybe I could call my parents' house home but... not really. Too many memories.

Signings and readings have already taken their toll on me. My hands are aching because of the endless hours of signing_ "this is for you, little rascal,"_ on copies of my novels, my throat hurts because of reading out loud and giving so many interviews, and my heart hurts because Clare Edwards is still here.

She seems to be a nocturnal animal like I am; every time I'm not able to sleep, there she is, reading or looking mournfully at her cell phone. It's always like she's expecting a call, like it's a matter of life and death. But whenever I walk over to her Clare's expression changes and she just smiles.

That smile, damn it. It's slowly becoming a torturous thing.

We talk a lot, mostly about music and books. I know now that her favorite Palahniuk book is_ Diary_, while mine is_ Invisible Monsters_. We have discussed the pros and cons of liking John Grisham (she loves everything he represents; I like his writing but detest his ideals), how we feel that the _Twilight_ books will never compare to _Harry Potter_, and I've mocked her taste in music several times.

But we never talk about ourselves, no. She hasn't asked any personal questions yet, and I'm thinking that Drew's words_ did_ get to her and made her feel uneasy about asking me stuff. Good, I don't really want to talk about my past. I don't want to talk about what caused me to spiral down into depression and write my first novel, _Pieces_. I don't want to talk about how I feel so disconnected to the world, how apathy is the thing that keeps me moving in an ironic way. I don't want to talk about how I miss Julia sometimes, even if I don't love her anymore.

And I don't want to talk about how Clare is making me feel. Because every time our eyes meet it's like my insides are shattering, and she doesn't even know it. She doesn't have to know, because nothing will happen. For a moment there I thought, _well, maybe if I fuck her_. Maybe if I fuck her I'll get it out of my system and I'll go back to normal.

But no, it doesn't seem that easy. She is not the kind of girl you fuck and forget about the following morning, no. I would still love to sleep with her though, of course, I'm not stupid. I keep having the dirtiest thoughts and dreams about her, which reminds me, I need to ask Drew if we can wash my sheets.

"Hey, are you okay?" asks Zane, patting me on the back. I've been standing on the parking lot, staring into nothing, and I just grin at him.

"Yeah, just thinking about the luscious hotel bed that is waiting for me," I lie.

"I got you the very best suite," says Drew as he walks over to us, snapping his fingers at the hotel's manager. "You're not in the same floor as us, but hey you're the star here. Say hello to Edmonton!"

The hotel manager smiles brilliantly at us, even though I know that he probably wants to kill Drew already. Join the club, buddy. Get in line.

"Yay," I exclaim sarcastically, and I see Johnny helping the hotel employees with our luggage. "Johnny! Do you have an extra cigarette?"

Johnny steps away from the mayhem and quickly pulls out a pack from his pocket. I grab one of the cigarettes and Johnny hands me a lighter, not saying a word. I like this man, he keeps to himself most of the time and somehow, I feel a connection. We both don't like to talk about ourselves too much.

"Thanks, man," I say as I start smoking and Johnny walks away swiftly, continuing to help. And all this time I haven't been looking at Clare, yay me.

I look around and I see Clare handing some candy to Adam, who looks kind of sick. "Excuse me," I say, smoke escaping my lips, and I walk over to them.

"Adam, you look like crap," I notice.

"Nauseous," he sighs, wiping sweat from his forehead. "You know that motion sickness and I are like, best friends."

"Are you sure you don't need to go to the doctor?" insists Clare, placing a hand on Adam's shoulder. Should I get sick? Would that make her touch me? Be right back, drinking expired milk.

"Nah," smiles Adam. "Elliot here knows that I've been suffering from this since I was a kid, right?"

Adam and I both tense up as my best friend realizes his mistake. He just implied we've known each other since we were kids, something we usually keep under wraps. Because if people know about our friendship, they will do some research and find out that Elliot Gold doesn't exist.

"So you've told me," I interject, and Adam seems grateful for my quick save.

"Well, maybe being in a hotel room will help out," smiles Clare. Goddamn it, stop smiling. You're breaking me apart here, woman.

"Just call a couple strippers, you'll be fine," I joke, and I get tired of my cigarette.

"You should add a bottle of champagne to that," chuckles Clare.

"I'll put it on your tab," retorts Adam, and the three of us laugh.

"Guys, guys!" says Drew, running over to us. "Come on, I need to give you your keys. We have a free night tonight, but I need you to be well rested for tomorrow, because the next three days are going to be chaos."

"I hate you for calling a press conference," I mutter resentfully.

"Just talk to them about why you think that Kurt Vonnegut is god and you'll be okay," says Clare calmly, and I glance at her. Her blue eyes are shining with delight, and I'm lost in them.

"I'm his agent, I'll tell him what he needs to talk about," snaps Drew.

"Um, that's my job," says Adam, raising a hand.

"Guys, she was joking," I say crossly as I notice how Clare's smile slowly vanishes from her face.

"May I have my key?" asks Zane, looking completely exhausted. "The guys are taking the luggage to our rooms."

"Fine, fine," sighs Drew impatiently, pulling the cards out of his pocket. "Zane, Johnny, Adam and I are all on the fourth floor. Journalist, you're in the 18th floor. Eli, you have the presidential suite, 23rd floor."

Fucking Drew, he knows I hate heights. Okay, well, I just won't look out the window, I guess.

"Well, I don't feel excluded at all!" says Clare with heavy sarcasm.

"Hey, you're lucky you're getting your own room," says Drew condescendingly, and I clench my fists, because otherwise, my agent will get a broken nose if he doesn't stop talking like that to Clare.

"So, when do I start bowing down to you?" she grins sardonically, and I can't help but laugh.

"Watch it," says Drew, waving a finger in front of her. "Come on, let's go to our rooms, I'm exhausted."

We all walk together, Zane and Johnny deep in conversation about something, Drew and Adam arguing like always, but I just keep smiling at Clare. "What's your room number?" I ask, trying to sound casual.

She looks at the card before putting it back in her pocket and brushes a curl away from her forehead. She is so fucking beautiful, I swear. "1856," she sighs, and we step into the lobby. It's a very fancy hotel, and I realize that maybe I'm more successful than I thought.

"You should order room service and indulge," I suggest as we wait for the elevators. "That will drive Drew insane."

"Maybe I should order everything on the menu," she muses, winking at me.

I almost make a crude joke full of sexual innuendo but I refrain myself. I need to stop flirting with her, there is no point at all.

"You're taking the elevator with us," snarls Drew, grabbing me by the sleeve. "She can take it with Johnny and Zane."

I give Clare a last look and she merely waves, moving closer to Zane, who seems glad to talk to her. I stand in the middle of the elevator, and Adam keeps groaning but my eyes are fixed on Clare. She glances at me, and a slight blush appears on her cheeks. Oh, fuck. Maybe... Maybe there is a point to all of this. Maybe...

The elevator doors close and Drew is yapping away, but I'm not listening to him.

_**Later**_

Surprise, surprise, I'm not able to sleep. It's pointless for me to stay in bed, my mind is going insane. I turn on the TV but all they're showing are cheesy movies, so I turn it off. I look at the alarm clock and realize that it's only 11 p.m. Fucking great.

Room 1856. I wonder if she's still awake. What if I show up, and just be like, "_hey, Clare, I noticed that you were blushing when I looked at you. Let's make out or something._" Yes, how classy of me. I'm wearing an old Dead Hand t-shirt and my black pajama pants, but I don't feel like changing. I just grab my old sneakers and put them on, and I'm out of my room.

My suite is incredibly large, too much for just one person, and it just heightens my sense of loneliness. I haven't called or texted Imogen since I left, and she hasn't tried to contact me either. I wonder what she's doing, but then again, I don't really want to know.

I get inside the elevator and press the button to the 18th floor, not sure of what I'm doing. I'm not expecting anything, I just want to talk to her like we talk on the bus, even if it's in a hotel room.

"Eighteenth floor," announces the speaker in the elevator, and the doors open to reveal two drunk chicks who are laughing their asses off at something.

"Oooh, you're cute," says one of them, her blonde hair all over her face.

"Excuse me," I say curtly as I walk past them, and the blonde girl pinches my ass.

"Paige!" says the other girl in a panicked tone.

"Couldn't help it," says Paige, still giggling. "Sorry."

"It's okay," I shrug, amused by the situation. The two girls get in the elevator and I hear Paige say something like "Hazel, you're such a party pooper," and I chuckle to myself. I walk around, looking for Clare's room and I try not to cry in triumph when I find it. I knock on the door and wait.

Wait. What the fuck am I doing here? This seemed like a good idea when I left my room, but now I realize that my mind went through a significant lack of judgment. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I need to leave. Maybe I can join Hazel and Paige and party with them, maybe that will help me sleep. Maybe I should just-

"Hey."

The door is already open and Clare seems wide awake as she stares at me curiously. Her hair is in pigtails and she's wearing an oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts. I just glance briefly at her legs and swallow hard, trying not too stare for too long. The shirt is just too big for her, it's almost sliding off, and I can see the strap of a black bra covering her shoulder. Her skin is white, and it looks so soft and inviting and...

This is too much, she's not only beautiful, but she's just too sexy. God.

"Hi," I blurt. "Um... You must be wondering what I'm doing here." My eyes are still lingering on her shoulder and she seems to notice, because she fixes her shirt, and the skin is gone.

"Kind of, yeah," she laughs, and she doesn't seem upset at all.

"Well, I can't sleep," I say.

"Same here," sighs Clare. "I've been working on my draft for the profile, and I also sent my editor some story ideas. But yeah, can't sleep either."

"That sucks." I lick my lower lip and just stand awkwardly in front of her, not knowing what else to say.

"You can come in and maybe... we can talk on the record for once?" she suggests shyly, and that deep blush reappears on her cheeks.

"I would love that," I say, my throat very dry.

"Okay then," she smiles, and beckons me in.

Her room is kind of small, but I guess all rooms are small compared to mine. I hear the door close and I notice that my palms are sweaty, that my lungs are threatening to stop working at any moment. I glance around and see the pile of notes on her bed, the open laptop and the books on her nightstand. There's a recorder lying on the ground, and her phone lays forgotten on the table next to the TV. The TV is on, and people with British accents are talking, which just makes me feel slightly out of place.

But I turn around and she's still standing there, smiling, and I know that I have to stay.

"Sorry about the mess," she says as she walks past me, headed towards the bed.

"You're the most organized journalist I've ever met," I point out as she starts picking up the notes from her bed. "What are you watching?"

"_Love Actually_," she says as she closes her laptop. I look at her ass and I try to push the dirty thoughts out of my head, I can't risk having any, um, reactions while wearing my pajama pants. God, what was I thinking?

"Sorry?" I ask, trying to make innocent conversation.

"_Love Actually_, it's a movie," she says, and she kneels down to grab her recorder. Don't think of the things she could do while on her knees, do not think, do not think-

"Is it any good?" I continue as I walk over and sit on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah," she grins, and sits on the bed, her back pressed against the headboard. "It's about all these couples, falling in and out of love during the holiday season. I just love it so much."

"Sounds like my kind of movie," I say sarcastically, and she just continues to smile.

"I bet you would shed a few tears," she mocks, and I shake my head.

"Tears? Never!" I retort. "Are you hungry? I'm starving. We should order room service."

"To piss off Drew?" she chuckles.

"That's just a bonus," I say and she grabs the menu from her nightstand.

"What do you want?" she asks.

"If there's a burger on the menu, I want that. And cheese fries. I'll pay for it, so you can order whatever you want."

She has a guilty look on her face, but says nothing. I pay attention to the movie while she grabs the phone and talks to the room service people, and I frown. There is a kid running in the airport, looking for someone, I suppose. Oh, a girl. Hold on, what is going on in this movie?

"It's done," she says and I look away from the TV screen. "Sorry for interrupting your movie-viewing experience, Mr. Gold."

"Shame on you," I sigh mockingly.

We both laugh for a bit, and then I hear the click on her recorder. I move up to sit down next to her and she seems slightly uneasy about it, but says nothing.

"So," she says, grabbing a notebook and a pen from her nightstand. "Let me start with a cliched question. What inspires you to write?"

I am only aware of the small distance between us, and my mind is reeling. If I lean in I could kiss her, but that's not going to happen. I try to answer her question instead.

"Just life in general," I say, trying to sound confident. "Everything that happens to me is reflected on my writing, or even stuff that doesn't happen to me, but stuff that I witness. Everything is inspiration, but nothing also is. Like... those moments of loneliness and boredom help out a lot, really."

"I feel that-" she starts, chewing on the top of her pen. "I feel that you're a more distant writer now. I remember your first novel, _Pieces_, it was so emotional and dark and I could feel you. Your words were so precise and full of intensity, you made me feel like I was there with you."

"What changed?" I ask, feeling worried.

"Don't get me wrong, your other novels are great," she says quickly. "And _Utopia_ was mind-blowing. But even if it is amazing writing, I don't feel you anymore."

What? What the fuck is she talking about? I poured my heart out on that novel, I-

"It's like you're just giving us a condensed version of you," she shrugs.

"It's fiction," I say coldly. "It's not me."

"We write what we know," she says dryly, and we look at each other.

"True, but..." I start thinking about how I felt while I wrote _Utopia_ and I realize that she has a point. I became very careful of what I put on paper, and I censored myself so many times. I didn't want others to read my words and disregard them, to not care about them. That would be like ripping my heart out and throwing it away, like it was useless.

"Fuck," I say, and I close my eyes as I rest the back of my head on the headboard. "Off the record, I think you're right."

She doesn't say anything, but I know she's looking at me, waiting to elaborate on an answer I have no intentions to expand on.

"Who's J?" she asks suddenly, and my eyes are wide open.

"Someone," I say mysteriously.

"There are all these rumors about you," she continues. "From your lifestyle to your sexual orientation to-"

"Is this a question for the profile or do you just want to know if I'm gay or not?" I smirk.

She looks at me in defiance, but I can feel her pride falling apart as I look at her in the eye. "Both," she says sincerely, and her honesty is very refreshing.

"I'm not gay," I chuckle.

"Are you single?" she insists.

"Yes," I say, raising an eyebrow. "Are you?"

She hesitates for a moment and gives me a shrewd smile. "Yes, I am."

"How nice," I reply, and I don't know what else to say. I focus on the books sitting on her nightstand and I notice a Vonnegut collection of short stories I've been dying to read, _Look At The Birdie_.

"Whoa," I gasp and as I lean in and reach for it, I hear Clare hold her breath. I grab the book and move slowly, and I realize that my face is just inches away from hers. My fingertips are barely holding on to the book, and my back is aching from the position I'm in, but all I can see is her face. She exhales and her breath touches my lips, and I'm intoxicated at once. My lips are just hovering over hers but we don't break eye contact, and I'm not sure if I should kiss her or not. The gap between us is quickly disappearing, and I let go of the book, my hand now barely touching Clare's cheek. Fuck it, I'm going to kiss her and-

"Room service." The soft voice at the other side of the door has ruined everything, and Clare moves away as she mutters something that I can't quite understand. I just sit on the bed while Clare goes to answer the door, and I feel drained because it's been a while since I've felt this way. The nerves, the anticipation, the angst of that first kiss. I don't pay attention to the maid who comes in and leaves the food, I'm still thinking about what almost happened. After a while, though, Clare pokes me in the shoulder and I look at her, my lips parted.

"You were starving," she reminds me, and she sounds embarrassed. I eat one of my cheese fries and it doesn't taste like anything to me, I feel so numb and disappointed. Someone is singing Christmas carols in that stupid movie she likes so much, and this is all making me feel sick. We eat in silence and she is sitting far away from me, like she doesn't trust me.

Well, this is just great.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi. My heart and the title of this fic belong to Panic! At The Disco (the title is an excerpt from their song "New Perspective"). All the quotes from Eli's "books" belong to me. **

**Author's note: Oh, hey, I have a canon line in this chapter, go figure. Dedicated to HeatherPoulette. Wink wink. I apologize for being so lousy at writing "mainstream pop lyrics." You'll see. **

"_And isn't this exactly where you'd like me? I'm exactly where you'd like me, you know."_

_**But It's Better If You Do, Panic! At The Disco**_

So, it's our last day in Edmonton and Clare Edwards is still ignoring me.

I'm not even paying attention to the stuff I'm signing; I'm just glaring at Clare, who is standing across the room taking notes. She's not even looking at me, and this is pissing me off.

And, isn't she supposed to be writing a profile about _me_? But she's not even talking to me! What the fuck?

Okay, perhaps I'm overreacting, because she still talks to me, kind of. But everything is different now, because her eyes don't shine when she looks at me, and she's always in a hurry. What happened?

So maybe it's about our almost-kiss. Maybe I freaked her out. Or maybe both of us should stop ignoring the elephant in the room and get to it. But no, my life is never as simple as that, so I guess the "friendship" between this wretched writer and the journalist is over. Fine, I don't care.

Then why do I feel so fucking miserable? I haven't known her for that long, and I could fuck any girl in this room. I look up and notice that the girl standing in front of me is looking at me curiously, holding a copy of one of my novels in her hands.

I twirl the marker between my fingers and I grab the copy from her, smirking. "Your name?" I ask, and I realize that I sound bored. Well, I am.

"Nicole," she says timidly, and I scribble something down, handing the book back to her. "Your writing is so inspiring!"

"Thanks," I smile tiredly, and she walks away, shaking. I rub my eyes with my fingers, still mad at Clare, and I hear when someone places another book in front of me.

"Your name?" I ask without looking up.

"Jay Hogart." My heart skids all over the place and I look up, staring in utter disbelief at the man in front of me. Jay is sneering at me, the ever-present mischievous twinkle in his eyes still there, and I gape at him soundlessly.

"Jay!" I gasp, not knowing how to feel about it. Jay _fucking _Hogart, the guy who used to fix Morty all the time. Julia and I used to hang out at his car shop and listen to his girlfriend Manny whine about not getting a record deal. Terrace, British Columbia, the place I used to live in and hated was now standing in front of me in the shape of Jay Hogart.

My past is standing right in front of me, and I'm fucking scared.

"Man, when I saw your picture at the front of the bookstore I was like… what the fuck?" grins Jay, messing with his hair. "You're not using your real name now, huh? It's a small world! When Manny and I left Terrace I never thought-"

"Can we get this moving?" snaps Drew, glancing at the line. I exchange a panicked look with my agent, and Drew's lips part in shock. I glance at where Clare is standing, and she is now staring at me, her eyebrows raised.

"Drew Torres!" exclaims Jay in delight. "Fuck, you're Adam's brother, right? Oh man, I remember when you guys hung out at the shop and-"

"Jay, do you mind following me so we can catch up?" asks Drew, using his professional tone. I feel my chest constricting; I'm having a panic attack. I haven't had those in ages, and I try to even my breath. I can't afford losing my mind in front of a crowd.

"Sure… hey, sign my book!" says Jay cheerfully as Drew pulls him away, and I just stare at him. "For Manny!"

Fuck, fuck, fuck, triple fuck. I keep signing like nothing has happened, the anxiety attack threatening every fiber of my being. Time goes by in a blur and the signing is soon over. I refuse to linger and I walk off the stage, my steps hurried as Johnny grabs me by the arm to avoid getting harassed by the screaming girls.

We're at the back of the store, and I hear Clare's high heels approach us quickly, and I don't want to look at her. I see Drew, Adam and Zane laughing their ass off at something Jay is saying, and I feel sick.

"Eli! Come and join us!" says Jay happily and Johnny lets go of my arm. I nod gratefully at him and Johnny sneaks away, and I see him pull out a pack of cigarettes. I want to follow him but I know that I can't avoid Jay.

I walk over to them, managing to keep the nausea away, and I grin at Jay. "It's been a while, Hogart," I say.

"Man, you look the same," chuckles Jay. "Same hair, still skinny, still wearing black clothes… No black fingernails though."

"A phase," I say dismissively. Clare is getting closer and I give Drew a warning look. Drew nods at me like saying "I've got it under control," so I relax.

"Hey, there," says Jay coquettishly. "Who are you?"

"Clare Edwards, Dixon Magazine," says Clare confidently, shaking Jay's hand. "And you are…?"

"Jay Hogart," says Jay and I hold my breath. "I'm an A&R for… my wife."

We all laugh and Clare smiles, still narrowing her eyes at Jay. "How do you guys know each other?" she asks. Of course she had to ask.

Drew gives me a side smile and I know that he already talked to Jay. Good, but this is still making me nervous as fuck.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" smiles Jay, and then turns to look at Adam. "I wanted to ask you guys if you wanted to watch Manny perform tonight. She has a gig at this bar here in Edmonton and it would be cool if you guys showed up."

"I would love to," says Zane, who just met Jay today and is looking at him like he's god. Can't blame him, Jay is a charmer. "But we leave early tomorrow and I'm so tired."

"Yeah, he's right," nods Drew. "Sorry, man. Maybe some other time?"

Jay looks disappointed but he nods. Then he glances at me and I see a bit of resentment in his eyes, which surprises me. "Well, it was nice seeing you guys anyway," he says, a sad tone in his voice. He holds his _Utopia_ copy high in the air and he smirks at me. "Manny will like this."

We say our goodbyes and share a couple of awkward hugs, and as I watch Jay walk away, I feel uneasy. "Be right back," I blurt, and run after Jay. Stupid me, running after someone I shouldn't be, but it's either this or dealing with Clare's stony silence.

Give me my past, I beg you. Anything but Clare's indifference, please.

"Jay!" I call as I run out of the bookstore into the crowded street. Jay turns around and shakes his head at me, clutching the book.

"So, _Elliot Gold_," he says sarcastically. "Nice name, _Elijah Goldsworthy_. Running away from your past, huh? Ashamed of good ol' British Columbia? You're too good for us now?"

"What the fuck, Jay, you live here now," I say defensively. "You left Terrace too."

"You know what I mean," retorts Jay. "Things have changed, eh? No worries, I'll leave you alone and let you be the hotshot writer you are now. You're not the scrawny kid that used to hang out at my shop, I get it."

"I'm just running away from Julia," I say, not caring if people are listening, and Jay's expression changes. "All this, the new name and shit… it's all because of her."

I'm finally able to breathe; Jay has provided an invaluable outlet for my anxiety. It's funny how everything happens, so fast. Jay starts laughing and he walks over to me and gives me a tight hug.

"You are an idiot," he chuckles.

"I know," I nod, and I feel sixteen again. "Hey, I might sneak out of the hotel to come see Manny sing. Is she still gorgeous?"

"Dude, you have no idea," says Jay, looking lovesick. "Her voice is fucking amazing. She'll be famous soon, I know it."

Jay scribbles something down on a page of my novel and tears off the little piece of paper and hands it to me. "Take a cab," he says. "I'll put you on the list… with a plus one, of course."

I take the piece of paper and put it in my pocket, the wind messing my hair. "Plus one," I grin, and Jay waves at me as he walks away.

_**Later**_

I keep knocking until my knuckles are raw, but she isn't opening the door.

"Clare, come on, what's going on?" I plead, pressing my face against the door. "Don't you need to interview me and stuff? I know you want to see my face, you can't keep ignoring me. Please, please-"

The door opens violently and I almost fall, but Clare backs away as I hold on to the doorway.

"Hello!" I say happily and then I notice that her eyes are red.

Oh, she's been crying. Oh. Oh. I'm not conceited enough to think that she's crying because of me, so…

"Am I bothering you?" I gulp. "I'm sorry, I just thought…"

"No, that's fine," sighs Clare, and she looks so tired.

She looks at me and walks away from the door, and I don't know what else to do but follow her. I close the door and she is sitting at the edge of the bed, her eyes blank. I sit next to her in silence and we both just stare at nothing for a while, and then I hear her clear her throat.

"Have you ever had a moment when everything seems final?" she asks quietly, and I want to hug her.

Oh, Clare, you have no idea.

"Yes," I say, suppressing emotion in my voice. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"My ex-boyfriend sent a box of the stuff I left at his place," she says, clutching the fabric of her skirt. "My best friend called me this morning, she's taking care of my apartment for me."

"Ah, is the breakup recent?" I ask.

"Kind of," she shrugs. "I mean, we went on a, um, break. At least that's what I thought. But it seems that it's final."

She sounds miserable, and I can't help it anymore. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and she just sighs sadly; she's not crying, though. Which is fine with me because I would freak out if she started sobbing, since I'm not the best at comforting people.

"Tell you what," I say, Jay's note burning a hole in my pocket. "Get dressed, we're going out."

"But Drew said-"

"Drew is not your boss," I retort. "Neither am I, but I want to cheer you up, and I don't care what Drew says. Come on."

"Is this…?" she starts, looking at me curiously as she disentangles from my arm and stands up. "Is this ethical?"

"Screw ethics!" I say rebelliously and stand up as well. "Come on, Edwards, live a little. Get out of your comfort zone. Come with me."

She considers me for a moment and finally smiles, the sadness in her eyes disappearing. I made her smile, and I feel amazing.

"Where are we going?"

_**Later**_

We sit at a small table, and I fidget nervously as I try not to stare at Clare for too long. She is wearing a dark blue dress, nothing too fancy, but not too casual. She's not wearing her denim jacket, but a nice cardigan and she looks-

"This is a nice place," says Clare casually, as if commenting about the weather.

"I'm trying to find Jay," I say, scanning the crowd. I look back at our table and I see the two empty glasses in front of me. Clare is still drinking her first screwdriver, and seems to have no intention to finish it.

Not that I want to get her drunk or anything.

"Eli!"

I turn around and see Jay walking over to us, looking ecstatic. "You made it!" says Jay happily as he pats me hard on the back, making me cough. "And you brought the pretty journalist!"

"She is _kind of_ pretty, you're right," I say, glancing at Clare, and she snorts.

"Kind of?" she says as she sticks out her tongue.

"I'm picky," I retort, and she crosses her arms, glaring mockingly at me.

"Manny's set is about to start," says Jay, looking at his watch. "If I miss you after the show, just remember to keep in touch, alright? Yeah. I know how to contact you, Drew gave me a card. Manny's kind of nervous about it, but I know she'll be great as always and…"

Jay's rant goes on forever as he keeps glancing at the stage, and I lose interest. After all, Clare is sitting next to me, and I can feel her eyes on me. An overweight bald man goes on stage and grabs the microphone, poking at it with his finger. "Hello? Can you guys hear me? Cool. Um, Manny Santos is performing tonight, so, check it out and stuff."

The man walks off and I start laughing at the horrified expression on Jay's face. "_Check it out and stuff_?" says Jay, his voice getting higher. "What kind of lame introduction is that?"

"Sounded pretty appealing to me," says Clare, her voice full of sarcasm.

"Same here!" I say, raising my empty glass. "I really want to check it out _and_ stuff!"

"You two were made for each other," chuckles Jay. "Smart-asses."

I look at Clare and even though it's kind of dark, I can see the blush on her face and I can't help but smirk. The crowd starts clapping and Jay says a hasty goodbye as he walks away, walking toward the stage. Manny walks in and I realize that Jay was right; she's still gorgeous. A guy takes his place behind the drums and another guy picks up the forgotten guitar, looking nervous.

"Hi, guys!" says Manny cheerfully, and yeah, she's still the same lovely, confident girl I remember. "I hope you enjoy my songs! I'm so happy to be here tonight, which such a wonderful audience."

"Woo!" I yell, much to Clare's embarrassment.

"You care too much about what people think," I sneer, noticing how she covers her face with her hands.

"Shut up," she mumbles.

The band starts playing and Manny grabs the microphone, owning the stage at once. She dances along to the pop, bubblegum-ish beat and takes a deep breath as the microphone almost touches her lips.

"_Funny how you avoid looking at me_," she sings. "_Denying what is undeniable, escaping fate with ease_."

And just like that, Clare and I glance at each other. She smiles shyly at me and I just smile back, knowing that what Manny is singing is pretty much what we're both declining to say.

People are starting to get up and suddenly, everybody is dancing. I'm only staring at Clare, who is nodding along to the songs, and move closer to her. She looks at me and frowns at my proximity, but says nothing.

"Hello," she says, her lips curving a little.

"I like it when you smile," I point out.

"You do?" she teases, and I focus on her lips.

"Yeah," I say huskily, leaning in. It's the hotel room all over again, but there is no room service to interrupt us this time. She blinks at me and then smiles, a wonderful, beautiful smile and-

"Let's go dance," she says suddenly, grabbing my hand and pulling me off the chair.

"No, no, I don't dance," I protest loudly as Clare drags me along.

"Get out of your comfort zone!" she giggles, and I know that she is mocking me. I just stand there awkwardly as she dances around me, her curly hair getting messier and messier with every move. I look at her as if in trance, and she grabs my hands, attempting to make me move.

"You're the most ridiculous person I've ever met," I say at the top of my lungs, and she just winks as she laughs. I pull her closer and wrap my arms around her, not letting her move. We're both silent and I try not to act stupid while I'm holding her, while I start to move my feet. She holds on to me and continues laughing as we both move faster, accidentally bumping into some people as we dance.

She looks happy and vibrant, and I feel accomplished.

_**Later**_

"Are we still fighting over this?" I say exasperatedly, and Clare scoffs at me as we get out of the cab. I know I'm right, but she is just too stubborn.

Somehow we ended up talking about _Haunted_ by Palahniuk, and the whole people-fainting-during-his-readings discussion came up. I'm pretty sure that more than 80 people passed out during his tour, but Clare keeps trying to prove me wrong.

"Officially, 67 people passed out during his tour," says Clare, and I snort.

"No, I'm pretty sure the number was higher," I say stubbornly.

"You're wrong," she says simply as we walk into the lobby.

"No, _you_ are," I say, sounding like a little kid.

"Want to bet?" she asks defiantly and I nod, embracing the challenge. "I'll look it up on the internet."

"Why not? What do you want to bet?"

"If I win, you will answer at least one personal question," she says, and I freeze. That is too risky, what if she asks about Julia? But I'm certain that I'm right, so I decide to play along.

"Fine, but if I win," I say, sure of my answer. "I get to kiss you. No strings attached."

Her face is slightly pale but she nods confidently, like she knows that she is going to win. We're waiting for the elevator and she types frantically on her phone, and I wait. God, please, tell me I'm right.

"Aha!" she exclaims triumphantly and shows me the screen. Fuck, 67. Damn it. I look at her and roll my eyes, but not before noticing a certain emotion in her eyes. Her disappointment mirrors mine, but we don't say anything about it. I'm getting fucking tired of this.

We walk in the elevator and the door closes, and Clare is teasing me as the elevator takes off.

"Hmm, what to ask, what to ask," she says cheekily, clearly enjoying her small victory, and I can't help it. I take a step closer to her, sexual frustration running through my veins, and she just stares at me.

My heart explodes when our eyes meet, as I lean in. My nose brushes her cheek and she gasps, turning me on at once. We are fire, we are electricity, and I don't want to stop. She shouldn't affect me like this, because we're complete strangers and yet…

"I won the bet," she reminds me breathlessly. "I won. You're not supposed to kiss me."

I smirk as my lips brush against hers, and I can almost taste her. "I'm a sore loser," I breathe, and I know that I've already won.

I kiss her, and for a brief second she doesn't kiss me back. Maybe I went too far, and I'm freaking out as I start to pull away, and then she puts her arms around my neck. My hands are on her waist and my fingers dig in as we kiss faster, the clash of our lips sending shivers down my spine. She is tugging on my hair as she pulls me closer, and I continue to kiss her fiercely.

Her lips part and I take advantage of it, invading her mouth with my tongue. Her tongue fights back and everything feels raw, everything feels electric, and I can't think. I push her against the wall, my fingers digging deeper and deeper into her hips.

She moans, our mouths still connected, and I can't feel my feet anymore. I want more of her, I want _all_ of her, and I think of her stupid ex-boyfriend with anger. Who would want to take a break from _this_?

My hands are all over her, and her hands are all over my hair, and I'm lost. Kissing her is almost sinful; nobody should be allowed to feel all this pleasure from just making out. Her mouth is warm and she tastes so good, and I want to kiss her forever. Fuck everything and everyone, I found my home, this is where I want to be for the rest of my life.

In an elevator, kissing Clare Edwards.

"Eighteenth floor."

The door opens and I pull away slowly, Clare's lower lip still between my teeth. We're both gasping for breath and her face is flushed, and I can only imagine what my face looks like. Her eyes have never looked so blue, her lips have never looked so red, and she has never looked so beautiful. I can't speak, and she is just looking at me like she can't believe what just happened.

"What does this mean?" she gasps.

Everything.

"I don't know," I say, my finger brushing over Clare's lower lip. It looks bruised. I bruised it. I did that.

"Let's go to my room," I say suddenly, sounding more confident than I actually feel. She stares at me, her expression unreadable, but I know what she's about to say.

"I don't… I don't do one-night stands," she says, sounding offended. "I-"

"I didn't say that I wanted to sleep with you," I note, and she relaxes. "I mean, I _do_… but I also know that you're not that kind of girl. I have all the time in the world, Clare Edwards. I'm the king of patience, you know? We can just talk or… do this." I wrap my arms around her and kiss her again, my lips devouring hers.

She pulls away and nods, making me feel elated. "Okay… okay…" she mutters, and kisses me with more fervor than before. My hand reaches for the button panel and I just press them all, not caring about anything but Clare.

Yeah, I've definitely won.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi. **

**Author's note: Yes, they finally kissed, eh? But as I said in the summary, it's always complicated when opposites attract... Anyhoo, I hope you'll enjoy this short, but rather important chapter.  
><strong>

**Also... just a reminder. This is AU. Eli and Clare are adults. Again, this is AU. That's all! :)**

"_I never said I missed her when everybody kissed her… now I'm the only one to blame."_

_**That Green Gentleman (Things Have Changed), Panic! At The Disco**_

I sit down, an air of indifference surrounding me, and I lick my lower lip as I join the rest of the crew. We just arrived to the hotel a couple hours ago, and we all decided to have lunch at the hotel's restaurant. My cheese fries are already waiting for me, and I feel suddenly hungry.

I glance at Clare, who is already eating her mashed potatoes across the table, and she acts casual, her hair looking perfect and her clothes looking neat.

The only thing giving away what just happened in the restroom is her swollen bottom lip.

Ever since Edmonton we have been sneaking around and making out, trying to avoid everyone. It's only been going on for a couple days, but it hasn't been easy, since we've spending a lot of time in the bus with all eyes on us, so we usually manage to find a secluded place in the bookstores or venues we have been at.

She's driving me crazy with those kisses of her. I wonder if she knows that I bite my pillow at night as I think of her, as I think of her lips on mine, as I think of all the dirty things I want to do to her. If I keep this up, I'm going to run out of lotion faster than I expected.

This is a little frustrating.

She told me on that wonderful Edmonton night that although she does want to sleep with me (yay!) she wants to take her time. Something about giving herself some time after the breakup, blah, blah, blah. She said that we can do other things in the meantime, that we can talk, or make out or... whatever. I don't remember much because I was more focused on making out with her on my couch, enjoying the texture of her incredibly soft lips. She also mentioned a few rules, which I will _try _to follow:

1. We have to be absolutely discreet. She can't afford people finding out about us, whatever we are, because she could lose her job. I told her that if that happens, I will hire her as my makeout assistant. She hit me in the arm after I suggested that. My arm still has the bruise.

2. This is a casual thing. She has no desire to be involved in another relationship for now, and I pretended to be hurt when she mentioned that. But that's fine with me; I don't want a relationship either.

3. We have to be discreet. Yes, she mentioned it twice.

"May I have the salt?" I ask Clare politely and she nods, handing it to me. My hand lingers on hers for a second, and she blushes, probably remembering what just happened in that bathroom stall. She tried to be quiet, but I can be a greedy bastard, so I made her moan several times as my fingers slid under her t-shirt and teased her skin. I need to stop thinking about this while I'm eating, seriously. I smirk at Clare and she blushes even more, breaking eye contact with me as she tries to focus on her food.

Oh, Clare, you know that I'm the perfect distraction.

I look over at Adam and I see that he's looking curiously at me, but I think nothing of it as I continue to eat.

"So glad we're staying at a hotel again," said Zane, taking a bite out of his burger. "That bunk is giving me a backache."

"Four days, eh?" I grin, winking at Zane.

"Yes, it's lovely," smiles Zane, his perfect white teeth almost dazzling me. "An old friend of mine lives in this area, so I might call him to hang out."

"Now, now, we don't want you cheating on Riley," I say, patting Zane on the back.

"With Marco?" groans Zane, raising an eyebrow. "No, he's like a brother to me. That is just disgusting, Elliot Gold."

"I think Eli's jealous," comments Adam. "After all, we all know that he has the biggest crush on you, Zane."

"Is that so?" chuckles Zane. "I'm too good for you, my man."

"Well, my heart just keeps getting broken over and over again," I sigh in mock despair, and I glance at Clare.

"I will quote you on that," she says, holding her drink in her hand and pretending to toast.

"Journalists! Enjoying the pain of others!" I retort.

Drew's phone starts ringing and he glares at us as he walks away, talking loudly.

"He's been in a bad mood, huh," says Johnny quietly.

"Yeah, problems with the wife," says Zane, nodding gravely. "I don't know how Bianca puts up with him, he can be quite an ass."

"Watch it, you're talking about my brother," says Adam, but his lips are twitching with laughter.

"Bianca is quite a bit- I mean, she can be quite a handful," I say, clearing my throat. "They are meant to be."

"Bianca?" asks Clare curiously. "His wife's name is Bianca?"

"Yeah," I reply, wiping my lips with a napkin.

Clare is frowning and seems confused, but I have no chance to ask her why she looks so concerned, because Drew comes back, his face red. "Okay, I'm going to take a nap before all the madness starts. We need to meet in the lobby in four hours, okay?"

My eyes meet with Clare's and I try not to look too excited. Four hours. Four glorious hours of free time.

My hotel room is once again the best one there is, and Clare is finally sharing a floor with the rest of them. But that's not a problem, she can come to my room. We both exchanged room numbers before making out in the restroom, so we have that figured out, of course.

"Maybe we should work on the profile," I say casually. "I really need to start answering your questions."

"That is true," she says, her tone dripping indifference. "Maybe we can talk before the signing and all."

"That would be nice," I drawl, and push my plate away.

We all stand up and walk over to the elevator, and Adam is still giving side glances. Hmm. That's weird. Drew is going on and on about how important the Q & A session before the signing is, how I need to answer most of the questions fans ask me, avoiding personal information, etc, etc.

We all walk into the elevator and somehow I end up being pushed next to Clare, our backs pressed against the wall. The elevator is too crowded but I say nothing because my hand is brushing Clare's, and I feel her tense up. My index finger wraps around her thumb and I can sense that she's nervous, but she shouldn't worry. No one can see our hands, no one can see the intricately intimate moment we're sharing, and I feel rebellious. I lean the back of my head against the wall as the elevator takes off and I glance at her. Her eyes are fixed on the ceiling, a slight blush on her cheeks.

I can't help but feel amused when I notice that her smirk is mirroring mine.

_**Later**_

_This is the life that I lead. The life that I chose. But decisions-_

I stop typing and rub my temple with one of my fingers, feeling frustrated. I've been trying to write something worthwhile ever since the tour started, but nothing comes to mind. I can't write about Julia again, I don't think my mind could handle it. And Clare said that I'm becoming an emotionally distant author... I don't know if I should fix that, but something in the back of my mind tells me I should.

There's a knock at the door and I turn off my laptop quickly, not bothering to save my pathetic drafts. I stand up and I walk to the door, opening it slowly. Clare is standing in front of me, looking radiant with her flowery dress and denim jacket as she holds a recorder and a notebook between her hands.

"Interview time," she grins, and I pull her in.

My lips are on hers as soon as I close the door, and she drops everything she's holding so she can wrap her arms around me. Finally, a proper kiss. I push her against the wall as my tongue battles hers, and she's moaning as I cup her face with my hands, as we stumble toward the bed.

She giggles as we land on the bed, with me on top of her, and I kiss a spot on her chin. "Mmm, I missed this," I say before placing a kiss on her neck. "Edmonton seems so far away."

"It does, doesn't it," she sighs as my tongue traces circles on her skin, and she trembles. Good, I make her nervous, that's wonderful.

"Drew being around me all the time doesn't help," I mumble, searching for her lips. I attack her lips at once, sucking on them, biting them. I'm kissing her slowly, and after all those hurried kisses, I needed this. My tongue slips inside of her mouth and she's warm as always, and this kiss is fiery and needy. I love it. My hand slides underneath her dress and my fingertips are on fire as I touch her thigh. She is not stopping me, and I can feel myself getting more and more aroused. But she doesn't want to sleep with me, not yet, so I slow down.

I place myself between her legs, which she slowly wraps around me, and I stop kissing her. "I remember... doing this kind of stuff in high school," I breathe, nipping at her jaw. Brief flashbacks of doing this on a couch with Julia at my house, not a care in the world.

"Same," she gasps as I start grinding against her. "I was always so worried about getting caught."

"I wasn't," I admit, feeling how she's quivering under my weight. I press my nose against her cheek, taking in her wonderful scent, and I can feel my insides burning up.

She is arching her back as I grind faster, and a low moan escapes her, almost pushing me over the edge. _Oh_, so this is what she sounds like, and we're not even fucking. Wow. I need release, so I keep moving as my hand caresses the fabric over one of her breasts and she moans again. Fuck, this is too much.

"Maybe..." she muses as I suck on her neck. "Maybe tonight you can come to my room."

I stop moving and I look at her in amusement, studying her face. She seems determined and I am about to explode in every single way, just thinking of her naked body next to mine...

"Are you... sure?" I ask, sounding like an idiot.

"Yes," she nods, and I kiss her. The kiss turns increasingly passionate as my jeans grind against the fabric of her panties and I keep moving faster, I want her to get off, I want to hear her scream, I want _her_. We don't stop kissing, and I'm starting to feel dizzy, the lack of oxygen getting to me. Our lips separate briefly so we can breathe, and the air invades my lungs, expanding them and hurting them, but it feels _so_ good.

"Oh my..." she moans softly, and it's the most erotic thing I've ever heard. She pulls me closer, kissing me again, and her tongue is being aggressive with mine, she is shaking like crazy, and I let go. I pull away from the kiss and I cuss under my breath, the orgasm making me feel lightheaded.

"_Fuck_," I whisper as I ride out the immense pleasure I'm feeling, and I don't even want to know what the inside of my jeans and boxers look like. I collapse next to her, trying to put myself together, my entire body feeling like I've just been in a car wreck.

"I think I have to go back to my room and change," she says shyly after a couple minutes.

"I have to take a shower," I smirk. "Thank you, Clare Edwards. I'm about to waste more water, so I blame_ you_ for global warming."

"My apologies," she chuckles.

Someone knocks at the door and I sit up, feeling uncomfortable at the sticky sensation inside of my jeans. Clare sits up quickly, rearranging her hair and dress in a flash, and she stands up. I walk over to the door and look through the peephole and I see Drew's face staring back at me. Oh, great.

"What?" I bark crossly, and Clare gets closer to me so she can pick up the stuff she dropped earlier. She walks away from me and tries to fix the bedspread so it looks that we were only talking.

If that was talking, I want another conversation right now.

She sits innocently on one of the chairs and places the recorder on the bed, smiling her amazing smile at me.

"I have something for you," says Drew from the other side.

"Fine, but I'm busy," I say, wiping off Clare's lip gloss from my lips with my sleeve, and I open the door.

Everything is a blur as a woman flings her arms around my neck, her lips kissing mine. I push the person away in shock and see Imogen staring at me, looking delighted. What the hell is she doing here? This is a nightmare, it must be. It's the nightmare following the insanely hot wet dream.

"My wonderful, sneaky _boyfriend_," she sighs, and kisses me again.

This is _not_ happening.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi. The title of this fic belongs to Panic! At The Disco.**

**Author's note: Credit to hollysaysrawr and devinfabulous at Twitter for coming up with the titles for Eli's novels. **

"_I don't love you, I'm just passing the time. You could love me if I knew how to lie. But who could love me? I am out of my mind."_

_**She Had The World, Panic! At The Disco **_

This is definitely _not _happening.

I close my eyes, hoping that Imogen will disappear once I open them again. I blink and well, she's still here.

"Imogen-" I blurt, not knowing if I'm feeling pissed off, or worried, or nauseous, or all of the above.

"Aren't you happy to see me?" she says in an childlike voice and I just glance at Drew, panicking.

"Surprise," says Drew uneasily.

"Who are _you?_" asks Imogen through narrowed eyes, looking directly at Clare. I turn around and I wince, ready for the drama, and I hope that I make it out alive.

"I'm Clare Edwards," says Clare cheerfully, like nothing is happening, and I raise my eyebrows. "I'm the-"

"Journalist," says Imogen in dislike. "Ah, yes, Drew was telling me about you."

"Of course he was," replies Clare calmly, and her nonchalant ways are unnerving me. What's going on? Am I going to get slapped or yelled at? I know I didn't lie to Clare, I_ am_ single... technically. But still, why is she acting so calm?

"I'm Imogen," says Imogen in that snotty attitude I hate so much. She's a beautiful woman, but these are the things about her that I heavily dislike. She's suddenly ugly in my eyes, and I don't know if it's because I'm upset with her or because I'm comparing her to Clare. "I'm Elliot's girlfriend... kind of."

"Ah, Eli didn't mention a girlfriend or anything similar to that," smiles Clare. "But it's nice to meet you... _Imogen_."

She glares at Drew but says nothing as her lips twitch. There is something in the way Clare says Imogen's name that makes me really nervous, but I can't point out what it is. It's not jealousy, it's something else.

"Eli?" frowns Imogen, and she turns to look at me. Oh god, no.

"Um," I clear my throat. "She's been hanging around Drew and Adam a lot, that's why she's calling me Eli."

"You never let me call you Eli," pouts Imogen, and Clare seems to be enjoying the show. "And why do you look so upset? I thought you would like me being here, Drew's told me you look kind of lonely."

"I'm going to leave now," says Clare, picking up her things. "I'll see you guys at the Q&A."

Imogen wraps her arms around me and glares at Clare, who continues to smile at everyone. She walks past Drew, who is still standing there like a clueless idiot, and I push Imogen away.

"Be right back," I say, ignoring Imogen's scoff, and I walk after Clare. She's near the elevators and she has her arms crossed, her lips pressed into a thin line. Awesome, I fucked up.

"Hey," I say, touching her in the arm. "Sorry about not telling you about-"

"Your girlfriend?" says Clare, and her tone is now icy cold.

"She's not my girlfriend... she's just someone I see," I explain. "We've been on and off for years, but I really have no interest in having a relationship with her. She drives me crazy, she's just nuts and a liar and-"

Clare starts laughing and shaking her head, and for a moment I fear for her sanity. "Eli, you don't have to explain things to me," she grins. "It's not like we're dating."

No, we're not. And your little I-don't-really-care act is getting on my nerves, Clare Edwards. Any other girl would care. I want you to care.

"I just don't want this to..." I swallow hard, feeling embarrassed. "Affect what we have going on."

"Let's put it this way," says Clare as the elevator's doors open. "Imogen is here, so there is no need for you to come to my room tonight."

I stand there in silence as Clare walks into the elevator, clutching her recorder and notebook close to her chest. She turns to look at me and there's a weird look on her face, and I feel like something is broken.

"I'm just giving you an endless supply of material to work with, huh," I say despairingly.

"Yes, you are," she nods, her voice sounding slightly sad, and the doors close.

I breathe deeply, and I don't want to go back to my room. I don't want to face Drew, how dare he make decisions without asking me first. I'm his boss, he should ask me if I want Imogen here, not just make plans out of fucking nowhere.

I start walking, my hands shaking with rage, and I sigh as I open the door to my room. Drew and Imogen are sitting on my bed, and my agent looks extremely guilty. Well, he should.

"You guys need some time together, okay?" says Drew quickly, standing up. "I'm... you know, you have a couple hours, so no hurry... yeah. Okay."

Drew walks out of my room before I can talk to him and I just hear the door close, my eyes fixed on Imogen. She stands up and walks over to me in a seductive way, licking her lips as she smiles.

"Are you still mad?" she purrs, her arms around my neck . "Sorry that I didn't call, I've been busy. I thought this would make up for it."

"You know that I hate surprises," I remind her. I have no time for her little seduction games, so I break free of her grasp. "I need to take a shower."

"You're so mean to me," snaps Imogen, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, well," I say carelessly, and I walk away from her. I close the bathroom door and take off my clothes, still thinking of what almost happened with Clare. I definitely blew my chances with her, I know it. Or maybe not, she acted like she didn't care.

But why... Why doesn't she care about this? I really don't understand. People say I'm difficult to figure out, but Clare is proving to be quite the challenge for me. I always pride myself in reading people right away, but she seems to be the exception.

I automatically get in the shower without really thinking, the warm water helping me relax. I close my eyes, thinking of all the sounds Clare made earlier, how my fingers touched her thigh, how I bit her lip...

I'm too busy daydreaming, and I don't notice the arms wrapping around my waist until it's too late. "What-" I start, turning around, and all I see is Imogen. She has an almost-evil smile on her face, the kind of smile she uses whenever she knows she's about to win. My heart aches for Clare's smile, but there is nothing I can do about it at the moment.

"I need you," she breathes, pressing her naked body against mine. I want to reject her, I want to tell her to fuck off, I want to tell her that I'm tired of her manipulative ways... but I'm weak. My blood is boiling and I kiss her savagely, as if punishing her for showing up unannounced. I push her against the tile, placing my hands behind her thighs so I can carry her and she moans appreciatively. I don't want her, I want Clare, but Imogen will have to do for now.

I don't even bother with foreplay, I'm still riled up from the makeout session with Clare, and I'm surprised that I've recovered so fast. It must be a miracle or maybe I'm just incredibly sexually frustrated. I push inside of her, and she screams, and it amazes me that she's not faking it.

Because I can feel it, I can feel_ her_, and Imogen is being honest for once. I try not to slip or do anything stupid, and Imogen's legs are wrapped tightly around me. She bites into my neck, and this is dirty as hell, but I don't care. I'm not making love to her, I'm _fucking _her, and she seems to enjoy every second of it.

But I have never felt so incomplete.

_**Later**_

I run my fingers through the spot Imogen bit earlier and it stings. Zane looks at me quizzically and I shrug as he applies foundation to the mark, his mouth twitching with disapproval. Of all the guys in the crew, he's the only one who hates Imogen. I know that he can see through her lies and fakeness, and I feel nothing but appreciation for him.

I can hear Imogen laughing at something Drew is saying and I want to punch something, or someone. Zane notices my discomfort and laughs, his eyes reflecting mischief and a little bit of pity.

"She's the life of the party, isn't she," mutters Zane as he now busies himself with my hair.

"Always," I reply bitterly.

"You seem happy," says Zane sardonically , applying some hair spray here and there.

"She wears me out," I mumble. "She's too much."

"A handful," nods Zane. "Sorry, man. Maybe you should end... whatever you guys have going on."

I don't say anything, because I know that Zane is right. I sense Drew getting closer and I roll my eyes, causing Zane to snort in delight.

"Remember, fans will ask personal questions and-" starts Drew.

"Avoid, avoid, avoid," I say tiredly. "I know, Drew. We've been doing this for five years now."

"Don't get mad at me for Imogen's appearance," says Drew wearily. "It was Adam's idea in the first place. Believe me, I was shocked too... I never thought... Well... You know that I don't want distractions for you or-"

"Wait, what?" I blurt angrily. "Adam's idea?"

"Yeah," sighs Drew. "Oops, it's almost time. Come on, Zane, hurry up." Drew pulls out his phone and walks off, already yelling at someone through his miraculous device. Probably Bianca.

"Good luck," says Zane, already done with my hair. "Avoid, avoid, avoid!"

I laugh and I feel Johnny's hand closing around my arm, and he nods at me. "Are you ready, Elliot?" he asks gruffly.

"Let's go," I say, not ready at all.

_**Later**_

"Um, Mr. Gold, I'm one of your biggest fans, um, I-"

"Your name?" I ask into the microphone, staring at the shaking kid who just stood up.

"Dave," he says breathlessly, holding a piece of paper in his hands. "Dave. Yeah, Dave,"

"Okay, Yeah Dave," I smirk. "What's your question?"

"In your second novel, _Demons_, you constantly mention fear of heights as a metaphor," he squeaks. "Like this line, _'High. It's one second, one moment. One feet at the edge, and it's all gone_.' Um, I heard a rumor that you're afraid of heights in real life. Is this true?"

Poor kid, he looks like he's about to pass out. I glance at Adam and Drew, who nod at me, and I guess I'm free to answer the question.

"Yeah, I am," I grin.

"Why?" asks Dave, and he just walked into unwanted territory.

"_Stop it. Stop it, you're drunk."_

"_You're not the boss of me, Elijah Goldsworthy!"_

"_Julia, you're too close to the fucking edge!"_

I blink and I realize that I was silent for more than a couple seconds, because everybody is looking at me in a weird way.

"Eh, I don't know," I say quickly. "A childhood fear I guess."

Well, look at me. Liar, liar, skinny black jeans on fire.

"Thanks," says Dave, and his face is green as he sits down.

A girl with red hair raises her hand and I point at her, and she stands up. "I'm Ellie Nash," she said, her tone slightly snobby.

"I'm Elliot," I drawl, and everybody laughs.

"Ha," blushes Ellie, and her attitude comes down a notch. "I know we're not supposed to ask certain kinds of questions but..."

Drew and Adam shake their heads in the corner but then my eyes fix on Clare, who is standing as far away from Imogen as possible. Imogen is giving me lovey-dovey looks and I'm just pissed off at the world.

"Go ahead," I say rebelliously and I can almost hear Drew's panicked rant in his head.

"Okay," smiles Ellie. "In _Chaotic _you say this: '_And she never listened. She never cared. And because of that, I will never love again._' And your novels are always centered around this elusive female character, how she breaks the narrator's heart. Um, also, all of your novels are dedicated to a mysterious _her, _except for _Utopia, _where you dedicate it to J and-"

"Get to the point," I say through gritted teeth, and I regret letting her talk.

"Who's J?" rants Ellie. "Is she the one you talk about in your novels... And are you single?"

Imogen, Clare, Drew and Adam are staring at me, waiting for my answer. Drew looks like he's about to die, and he's biting on his fingernails. Fine, watch me answer this.

"Someone I knew, maybe, and you're not my type," I say sarcastically. "I _am_ single, though."

And all hell breaks loose.

People are standing up and I can't make out what they're asking but I can hear "asexual," "are you gay?" "will you ever tell us who J is?" and other things that I will definitely never answer. I stare at Ellie, who is standing in the middle of the raucous crowd, and she has a satisfied smile on her face. She's holding a book that looks too familiar, and my heart stops. My high school yearbook. She has my high school yearbook in her fucking hands. I see there's a badge around her neck and I curse under my breath. She's not a fan, she's a journalist.

This is the day from hell.

"Okay, okay," says Adam, pushing me away from the microphone. Where the hell did he come from? He was on the other side of the room and- Oh, who cares.

"No more questions," barks Adam, and the crowd starts to calm down. "The signing will take place in a few minutes, so get in line-"

Ellie is gone, I can't see her anymore, and my chest feels heavy. I grab Adam by the sleeve and I mutter into his ear, my breath uneven. "I'm having a panic attack," I gasp, and he nods at me.

"We'll be right back," blurts Adam, and Johnny is already by my side, and we are walking fast, almost running away from the stage.

We hit the back alley and I fall to the ground, heaving. I can't breathe, but Adam swiftly hands me a paper bag and I breathe into it, trying to control myself. I hear Drew's voice and Imogen's complaints as they join us in the alley, but I could care less about them. Adam has a hand on my back and he is trying to comfort me, but I'm still pissed off at him.

"Why did you call Imogen?" I gasp, and his face goes pale.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says neutrally. Imogen and Drew are still fighting in the background, Johnny is standing far away, I don't know where Clare is, and nobody can hear my conversation with Adam.

"Fuck you," I say heavily.

"Okay, well, because I know what you're up to with Clare," confesses Adam quietly. "This is not ethical, and I don't want you screwing up this profile, I know how you are and-"

"I'll say it again, fuck you!" I yell, and I stand up, stumbling.

"Eli, what the fuck were you thinking?" says Drew angrily, walking away from Imogen. "You answered a personal question! I've told you-"

"Drew, I wasn't done talking to you!" squeals Imogen crossly, and my eyes linger on the back door. Clare is standing there, looking as if she feels sorry for me, and her eyes dart from Imogen to Drew and then back to Imogen.

Oh.

Oh, fuck no. It all makes sense now. Why Clare acted weird when we mentioned that Drew's wife was Bianca... how she reacted when Imogen said she had been talking to Drew... the way she said Imogen's name...

"You two are fucking," I deadpan, looking at Imogen and Drew.

Drew's mouth is hanging open, and Imogen flinches. Of course, of course. That's why Drew is always asking me about her, that's why Imogen is so distant, that's why she came to visit. She didn't want to see me, she wanted to see Drew.

"Eli, I-" starts Drew, guilt all over his face.

"I'm out of here," I say, turning my back on them, and I walk away. I walk and walk, and I finally get to a busy street, and my eyes are looking for a cab. I can't do this anymore, I can't trust anyone around me, I-

A hand grabs mine and I jump, shocked by the touch. It's Clare, her blue eyes filled with pity and concern, and I feel like falling apart.

"What do you want?" I snap.

"Where are you going?" she says, her face red from running.

"I don't know," I admit, and a cab stops in front of me. "Want to come with me?"

She looks around and we see Drew and Adam running toward us, and she nods. "Yeah," she smiles, and I grab her hand as we get into the cab, as we disappear into the night.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi. My heart and the title of this fic belong to Panic! At The Disco.**

**Author's note: One of my favorite Eclare scenes is the one at the bench. It makes me all fangirly inside. So, this chapter includes a variation of that scene. Also, my friend Marie suggested to include some Eclare canon lines here and there, and I thought that would be cute. Have a nice weekend! **

"_... and the habit of decomposing right before your very eyes, along with the people inside. What a wonderful caricature of intimacy."_

_**Build God, Then We'll Talk, Panic! At The Disco **_

"So, you'd rather die of a diabetic coma than talk about what happened?"

"Basically."

Clare is frowning at me as I finish my third ice cream cone, but I ignore her. I look around and glance at the families passing us by, not sparing a look for the two tired-looking adults sitting on the bench. Clare is just finishing her first cone, and I'm tempted to go buy another one.

It's rather nice out here, wherever the cab driver dropped us off, because I have no idea where we are. My first thought was to go to a bar and get completely wasted, hopefully get Clare wasted too, and have hot sex with her afterward. But part of my heart is aching a little, so I ended up telling the driver to drop us off somewhere with a lot of people. I didn't expect a park, but oh well.

"This can be off the record, you know," insists Clare, sounding worried.

"I don't trust you," I mock, and I suck on my lower lip.

She doesn't say anything and a pretty-looking girl jogs by, her tight shorts causing quite an scene. I shake my head and turn to look at Clare, and her eyes are fixed on me.

"It's not the fact that Imogen slept with someone else," I say exasperatedly. "We were never exclusive, so we weren't exactly monogamous. But Drew of all people? I know I'm not the beacon of morality but Drew is married. And my agent. And although he's cocky and a complete asshole, he's my friend. I mean, I've known him since-"

I stop, catching myself before spilling out any links to my past. Clare chuckles and puts the rest of the cone in her mouth, and there's a knowing expression on her face. "You've known him for years, right?" she says slyly, and I shrug uncomfortably.

"Well, yeah," I nod, not able to look away from her. "He's been my agent for five years now."

"You're childhood friends with him," says Clare calmly. "That's why it hurts."

Fuck yes, this is why it hurts, but how does she-

"You've done your research," I state. "Well, I shouldn't be surprised. This is just a wonderful, peachy day."

I look away from her and my hands are shaking, and I kind of want to know how much she knows about me, but I'm afraid to ask. So I focus on a shallow question instead.

"How did you find out? About Drew and Imogen?" I ask curiously. "Because you obviously knew something was up, I'm not stupid."

"I'm just very observant," she chimes, and I snort, causing her to giggle.

"Several times, during signings, I heard him talking on the phone to a woman," explains Clare, moving closer to me. "One day I heard him say 'I miss you so much, Imogen.' So I assumed that that was the name of his wife. That day when I found out that Bianca is his actual wife, I was kind of shocked. And then Imogen showed up and Drew looked like a mess, so... It wasn't that hard to figure out."

"Oh." So Imogen and Drew have had this thing going on, and I just didn't notice. Well, I feel rather stupid. I don't want to think about them together, it makes me nauseous. Not because I care about Imogen, because I really don't. But Drew, after I followed all of his orders to erase my past, after agreeing to all of his ludicrous ideas, after... I can't deal with this.

"Hey," says Clare, placing her hand delicately on mine. "Are you okay? You're shaking."

"I'm just pissed off," I admit.

"I know what you mean," she nods, but I find it hard to believe that Clare Edwards has ever been pissed off. It doesn't seem like her nature.

"I guess that you know my real name now, huh," I say quietly.

"Yes. I know a lot of stuff, but I don't think that today it's the day to discuss what I know," she says, her hand clutching mine. "You've had a rough day."

I just look at her, at the way her eyes are shining under the light of the lamppost, the way her lips are glistening and the way she irradiates an aura of pure understanding. I feel immediately calmer, and I blame her for it.

"I do like Elijah better than Elliot, though," she blushes. "It's a really nice name."

"Thanks," I nod, mockingly grave. "Drew will be thrilled that you know things, for the profile and all."

"Hmm." She's not saying anything about what she knows, I can sense that. That's fine. It really is.

"I just feel like this has been such a stressful day," she sighs, letting go of my hand. "I feel like screaming."

"Why don't you?" I ask.

"Because we're in a public place," she notes, raising an eyebrow.

"You should do it," I grin. "We should do it. Let all of our frustration out."

She looks at me like I'm crazy, and I start laughing. "Come on, Edwards. It'll be fun. You go first."

"Throwing me under the bus, I see," she frowns. "But... okay."

She stands up and flattens her dress, glancing around nervously. I just sit here, enjoying the sight of the beautiful woman standing next to where I'm sitting.

"Ah," she lets out, the scream dying instantly.

"God, Clare, that scream was full of emotion," I tease. "My ears are buzzing, that was so loud!"

"Oh, stop it," she snaps playfully, and draws breath.

She screams, and people are staring at her in concern, but I just laugh. She stops screaming and there is a smile on her very red face, and she turns to look at me.

"I think they heard you somewhere in Russia," I drawl.

"Come on, your turn," she says, grabbing me by the hand so I can stand up.

"Nah, I think you screamed enough for both of us," I smirk, and her mouth is shaped into a little "o."

"Oh, no, _Elijah Goldsworthy,_" she says crossly, using my real (and full) name for the first time. I find it delightful instead of terrifying, and I enjoy the annoyance in her face. "It was your idea, you do it too!"

"Not my style," I shrug, and she playfully hits me in the arm, but I catch her hand.

"You're so, ugh!" she protests as I grab her by the wrists and pull her close to me.

"So what?" I breathe, my nose brushing hers. Her eyes are wide open, and she's momentarily speechless. She's too much, but in a good way, because she's just too beautiful. I let go of her wrists and place one of my hands on her cheek instead, grazing the skin with my thumb. My other hand goes to small of her back, and she nervously grabs me by the collar of my jacket.

"You're messed up, Eli," she says softly.

"I am," I admit, and it seems that my sincerity is throwing her off. Our lips are now barely touching, and I feel like she's teasing me, but I want _her_ to kiss me. She has never kissed _me_, I'm always the one who starts everything.

I want to know if she cares.

She finally moves closer and presses her lips on mine, tentatively, very gently. It's not like any of the kisses we have shared, this is different. It's a kiss full of comfort and warmth, a kiss I didn't expect. I can feel my face getting hot and my insides are melting, and I just wrap my arms around her and pull her closer. My nose is pressed against hers, and none of us is deepening the kiss, but I'm fine with that. This kiss is just so...

I have no words, my vocabulary fails me for the hundredth time, and I can't stop kissing her.

Our lips separate, and I feel them pulsing as she places a quick kiss on the corner of my lips. "Do you feel better now?" she asks shyly. "I was kind of feeling sorry for you."

"You should feel sorry for me more often," I wink, and she lets go of me.

"Elliot!"

For a moment I don't react, because I'm_ finally_ Elijah, not Elliot, but the voice sounds familiar. I turn around and see Zane running over to us, looking flustered.

"We found you, thank God," he gasps, and pulls his phone out of his pocket. A well-groomed young man is following Zane closely, tugging on his tie nervously as he approaches us.

"I found him," barks Zane into the phone, and hangs up at once. "We've been looking for you and- Oh, this is my friend Marco."

"Hi," says Marco cheerfully, and I shake his hand. "I know the area pretty well, so I was just helping out, you know?"

"I didn't want to be found," I say dryly.

"I know," says Zane, his tone full of understanding. "The signing was postponed until tomorrow morning, and Drew is furious. Not with you, just... the whole thing. Drew and Imogen, huh? That shocked the hell out of me."

"You're not the only one," I say, and I wish I could reach out for Clare's hand and hold it in front of everyone.

"You have to go back," says Clare, and I look at her. "_We_ have to go back." Our moment is broken, the little peace we had for a couple hours is gone. Good things in my life never last a long time, I know that now.

I nod, but I don't know if I'm ready to face reality again.

_**Later**_

Drew can't even look at me, and Adam is leaning against the wall, studying me closely.

"I sorted out the PR crisis," says Adam coldly. "I told them you got food poisoning. I don't know if they will buy it, but whatever, I tried."

Is he mad at me? I should be mad at him! He brought Imogen after all, and created all this drama. What am I even doing here? I don't want to be in the same room as these two. But I know that Imogen is waiting for me in my room, so I'll stay here for now.

"Good for you," I say venomously.

"Don't even get me started, Eli," snaps Adam, warning in his voice.

"Eli, just give me the rest of the Canadian tour to find my replacement," interrupts Drew uneasily. "I'll find someone... maybe Liberty will want to take over, even though I can't stand her-"

"Drew, I'm not firing you," I say, raising my eyebrows.

"You're not?" he blurts miserably. "Oh, thank you, thank you. Man, I'm so sorry, I'm so-"

"That doesn't mean we're still friends. I'm still curious, Drew... Why Imogen?" I interject, and Drew flinches. "And you're married. How could you do this? How could you be so fucking selfish and stupid? I don't get it, Drew."

"I... I'm sorry, it just happened," he says, and Adam rolls his eyes at his brother. "And you guys were never really exclusive, right? I'm not using that as an excuse, but... Well... She came by the office one day and... I was mad at Bianca..."

"And you just had to sleep with Imogen," I snarl. "How nice."

"Eli, you never cared about her-" started Drew, his face red.

"How long has it been going on?" I interrupt, not wanting to get lectured by Drew Torres.

"Seven months."

Fucking hell, _seven months_? I feel dizzy, and Adam looks simply enraged.

"You two are like little kids, I swear," says Adam impatiently, walking around the room furiously. "I'm always looking out after you because you can't get your shit together."

"Oh, calm the fuck down," I retort. "Stop acting like you're a goddamn martyr because it doesn't suit you, Adam. It doesn't fucking suit you. And you called Imogen in the first place, so you brought this on yourself."

"Why_ did_ you call her?" asks Drew, staring at his brother, and Adam gives me a side glance. Oh, Drew doesn't know about me and Clare; Adam hasn't told him yet. Oops.

"Just thought Eli would like that," says Adam icily. "But I didn't know my own brother was fucking her too! When Bianca finds out..."

Adam and Drew are arguing and I just rub my eyes anxiously, waiting for their fighting to stop. I don't know how we got involved in this mess, but I just want it to end. Clare told me on our way here that I could join her in her room after all the madness has ended. She made it clear that she's not sleeping with me tonight, but that she wants to be... there for me. How weird, the person who I've known for the least amount of time is the one offering comfort.

"You guys keep fighting, I have to deal with Imogen," I say finally, and I walk out of the room. I feel Adam walking after me, but I don't want to talk to him, I feel so betrayed.

"Eli, wait," calls Adam, and I turn around.

"Your plan backfired, huh?" I say angrily.

"Kind of," he says, and he sounds defeated. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm really sorry. I didn't know Drew and Imogen were seeing each other, I swear."

"I know," I sigh. "I don't give a fuck about Imogen, I'm just so pissed off at Drew."

"I am too," chuckles Adam. "I... I was just trying to make things right. By bringing Imogen I thought that Clare would get mad at you or something and stop doing... whatever you guys are up to."

"We haven't slept together, we're just... hanging out," I explain.

"I'm just worried, that's all," says Adam, looking around to make sure nobody is listening. "I've seen the way you look at her. And... I know how this ends."

I feel like someone just punched me in the stomach and all the air in my lungs has escaped me, but I don't say a word. Adam is not concerned about ethical bullshit, or my career, or anything else. He's worried about Clare. He's worried about what I will do to her, he's worried that it will be Julia all over again.

So, he lied. He still doesn't believe me I had nothing to do with Julia's death.

"Wow, Adam," I say with disdain. "You think I'm going to push her off a building or something?"

Adam looks miserable, and he shakes his head. "Eli, no, don't put words in my mouth," he starts, but I'm already walking away. I know that Drew thinks I killed Julia, I know that people in Terrace think I killed her, hell, my own parents still look at me in doubt.

But Adam? I thought he believed me. I thought he did. But it turns out that he's like everybody else, and I feel like getting rid of every single one of my emotions.

I'm an apathetic, cynical human being. And this is why.

_**Later**_

"I'm not going to apologize," says Imogen stubbornly, her arms closed. Her suitcase is already by the door and I have a glass in my hand, and I'm trying really hard not to throw it at the wall.

"I wasn't asking you to," I say in a bored tone. "But really? Drew. You just had to go ahead and fuck Drew."

"You and me... we were never exclusive!" she says defensively.

"But Imogen, Drew is my agent, my friend," I say, setting the glass on the nightstand. "He's fucking married, and you didn't care!"

"Oh, and you do?" she yells. "At least Drew cares about me, you know? Fuck, Elliot, you don't care about anything! You never cared about me, you don't care about Drew, you're just a fucking shell of a human being."

Ouch. I never thought that Imogen would actually hurt my feelings, but my heart feels a little bruised.

"Everything is always so fucking dramatic with you!" I yell back.

"If you had asked me to be exclusive, I would have," says Imogen, and I have never seen her look so... sad. "You would have been the only man in my life, but you never asked. You never considered me seriously, and I tried... I wanted you to love me."

"Please," I say, rolling my eyes. "You don't love me, Imogen."

"But I could have," she continues. "You just don't let anyone in, you're so defensive and surrounded by a bunch of fucking walls, you never open up-"

"It never ends well for me, okay?" I finally snap. "You don't fucking know me, Imogen. You think you do, but you just... assume things. You create all these scenarios in your head and you just fucking assume everything."

"You're not making any sense," she says. "This is over. Whatever we had, whatever we almost had, it's just over. Don't call me, don't look for me when you get back."

"I wasn't planning on doing that," I deadpan.

"You're going to die alone," she says, every word dripping with bitterness. She grabs the handle of her suitcase and walks out of the room, out of my life.

Her words are ringing in my ears and I can't help but think that she's right. I always push people away, that's my thing. My behavior becomes a burden, a burden they're not willing to carry, but I understand. I think of Julia, how mad she was at me the night she died, the night she-

"_We don't want the same things," cries Julia, the bottle dangling from her fingertips. "You're just..."_

"_Julia, just step away from the edge," I say, my breath stopping with every step she's taking. _

"_We're not meant to be!" she yells, and my heart breaks. _

I must have walked out of my room on automatic mode, because now I'm standing in front of Clare's door. I knock just once, and I feel heavy, I feel like I can't move at all. The door opens and she gives me a little smile when she sees me. I'm pretty sure I look like crap, after everything that just happened.

"May I come in?" I say wretchedly, feeling tired.

She nods and I walk in, and as soon as I close the door, her arms are around me. She kisses me on the cheek, the sensation of her lips on my skin making some of the pain go away.

I take my time hugging her back, but once I do, I just hold on.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi. My heart and the title of this fic belong to Panic! At The Disco. **

**Author's note: Muahahaha, sorry for all the sexual frustration/tension. This chapter should make up for it. Look out for Eclare canon lines. Wink wink. **

_"I swear to God, I'd never heard a better sound coming out, than when you're whimpering my name from your mouth."_

**_Kaleidoscope Eyes, Panic! At The Disco_**

I chew slowly as I stare at her, hoping that she'll start talking. But no, she is teasing me, like she has been teasing for the past couple days since the huge Drew/Imogen/Adam/my ego fallout. She sips on her water, her blue eyes filled with the knowledge she doesn't want to share, and I sigh impatiently.

"Not fair. Not fair that you know all these things about me and you're not willing to share," I say resentfully.

She glances around the hotel's restaurant and laughs, clearly enjoying my misery. She's such a weird one, this girl. I'm still not able to figure her out, and this is driving me insane.

"I've already told you, I know your real name," she says in a condescending tone. "I know that you're from British Columbia and not Ontario... I know about your parents, about Adam's past... I also know other things, but let's save that for some other day, okay?"

"You're killing me," I say sincerely. She is, she is murdering my patience and my sanity in more ways than one. True, I spent the night with her after fighting with Drew and Imogen, but nothing happened between us. It consisted of me being a pathetic whiner and we just lay in bed, holding hands. Okay, well, maybe that was nice, the holding hands part, but I'm a guy. I have needs. And she's just too hot and sexy and beautiful and-

I focus on my food instead and I continue to eat, wondering what else she knows about me. Does she know about Julia? Of course she does, she found all that stuff about my past, Julia was bound to come up in her research.

But she's smiling at me, so I don't think she does. If she knew about Julia she wouldn't be smiling like that, she wouldn't be sitting with me like it's not a big deal.

"Okay, I'll let you know something," she says, pushing away her unfinished salad. "I know now that you've always been obsessed with death."

"Death is fascinating," I nod.

"You used to drive a hearse to school," she grins. "That is very interesting."

"Ah, Morty," I said fondly. "I miss him."

"You gave it a name?" blurts Clare, dissolving into a fit of giggles.

"You're such a bad researcher if you didn't know that," I mock. "But yeah, I... I've always been obsessed with death."

And that reason was why everyone suspected me after Julia's death. They thought that I had taken my obsession way too far, that I had pushed her off the roof to see what a dead person looked like. I feel disgusted just remembering the rumors that were spread around Terrace. That's why the rumors surrounding Elliot Gold don't faze me as much; I'll take those gay rumors any day.

"Why?" asks Clare, doodling on her reporter's notebook.

"I can't really explain it," I sigh. "Or I can try. It's funny how everybody is afraid of death, afraid of dying. I find it fascinating that in just one second everything can disappear, that in just one second, your life is over. Just like that... without a real warning, without notice. Suddenly, you're nothing."

"I'm not afraid of dying," says Clare pensively, writing down what I just said. "I'm just afraid of... not living enough, you know? Of dying with regrets."

Our eyes meet and I shiver, because we're kind of opening up to each other, something I promised I would never do. But I feel so comfortable talking to her, she just makes me feel... for lack of a better word, safe. Yes, that's how I feel around her.

"Hey guys," says Drew timidly as he approaches.

"Hello, Drew," I say politely, and everything feels awkward. We've been sinisterly polite to each other since our fight, but I don't want any more drama. I'm intent on keeping my relationship with Drew strictly professional, because I'm still mildly pissed off at him.

"We need to discuss some things," says Adam out of nowhere, and we avoid to look at each other.

With Adam, things are different. I feel like something broke between us that night, although he's been trying to talk to me in private. I don't want to talk to him just yet, I'm still hurt that he thinks I would hurt Clare the way I supposedly hurt Julia.

I'm not a murderer, I'm just a victim. I wish people knew that when Julia died, a part of me died too. In a way, Eli Goldsworthy died that night, but hey, nobody noticed, so nobody is mourning him. Just me, I'm the only one who is still in pain.

"About what?" asks Clare, closing her notebook and sliding it down the back pocket of her jeans.

"World tour issues," says Adam, rubbing his temple. "We've just made some plans about New York and-"

"Do I need to be here?" I interrupt. "I could really use a nap before the reading tonight."

"Well, no, not really," says Drew quickly, trying to please me. "We wanted to talk with Clare about how we're going to deal with press overseas and things like that."

"Ah, well," I shrug, and I notice that Adam is holding a newspaper in his hands. It's the A&E section of the local newspaper, and I can see my name (well, _that _name) in one of the headlines. Awesome, are they still talking about my "food poisoning" incident? I gave them a signing the morning after, why can't they just let it go?

But I keep thinking about that journalist, Ellie... I don't remember her last name, but she keeps haunting me in my dreams, holding my high school yearbook. I need to tell Drew about her, eventually, maybe he will take care of that.

"Are you okay?" asks Adam, and I finally look at him.

"Yeah," I say, standing up. "I think I'll let you guys deal with that, and I'll just go to sleep. I'll see you in a couple hours, okay?"

They all nod at me, but there is a hint of sadness in Clare's eyes as I leave. Oh, she doesn't know what I'm about to do.

I walk to the hotel's public restrooms, which could easily pass as a goddamn museum because they look so fancy and clean. I stand in between the two doors and I wait for a couple minutes, watching the people walking by. After a while I look at my watch and grin, reaching for my phone, which is deep inside my pocket.

I find Clare's number and I dial, waiting patiently for her to pick up.

"This is Clare Edwards."

"Hello, Clare Edwards, what are you doing?"

"Meeting."

There is a bit of laughter in her voice, and I can picture her trying to be nonchalant about the phone call in front of Adam and Drew.

"See, this is your editor calling, you need to send me your draft right now. No excuses."

"So, do you want me to send you my draft right now?"

"Yes, that would be nice. You're slacking, Edwards. Are you being distracted by someone?"

"Not at all, I will send that draft to you right away."

"If you could send that draft from the men's restrooms, that would be simply splendid."

"I will. Just give me a few minutes."

"Thanks."

She hangs up and I put away my phone, a huge smirk on my face. I look inside the men's restrooms and make sure they're deserted, and I feel triumphant. I go back outside and wait for her, my back pressed against the wall. She didn't lie, because just a few minutes have passed by and I see her walking toward me.

"Oops, I didn't bring my draft," she smiles. "I'm glad you called."

"I didn't want you to get stuck with those two," I smiled back. "But..."

I grab her by the wrist and pull her closer to me, and I can feel her getting nervous. "If they see us..." she starts anxiously.

"I'll handle it," I wink. "We need to discuss important things, you know."

"Such as?" she asks, swallowing.

"How you're going to thank me for saving you from the terrible duo," I say sarcastically, moving closer to her.

"Well, what do you have in mind?" she smirks, her face slightly red.

"Oh..." I trail off, my free hand placing itself on the restroom's door. "Well, _I don't know._.." My grin becomes more pronounced, and I pull her inside the restroom with me.

**_Few minutes later_**

"Clare, Clare, I just..."

"Sorry, I've never done this before, I'm sorry."

"No, you're doing great, I just... _damn it_."

I close my eyes and I'm biting my own lip because otherwise I'll start being loud. This bathroom stall is insanely small, but somehow we fit, and I can't think properly at the moment. Clare has never given a handjob before? She's only a year younger than I am, and she's had boyfriends before so I don't understand… Well, she's a fast learner.

"You need to be quiet," she mutters frantically as her hand starts moving slightly faster.

"You need to- fuck, _fuck_," I groan, banging my head against the wall by accident. I can't deal with this; this is just too good to be true. She hasn't slept with me yet; she said she's punishing me for not telling her about my thing with Imogen (so, she did care about it, ha) but our makeout sessions are getting more and more intense. I know that she'll give in soon.

"You are just-" I blurt and Clare kisses me, my moans captured in her mouth, and I know she's just kissing me to keep me quiet. I'm shaking, I can't stop shaking as she continues to move her hand, and I finally let go.

My groans are muffled against her lips and her hand lets go of me, and I don't even want to look at the mess I'm creating. I'll have to clean up, or maybe not, or who cares, this just feels incredibly amazing. I feel so complete, and her lips part from mine, curving into a smile.

"I can't believe I just did this," she blushes.

"I can't believe I just vandalized this stall," I say, pointing at a spot on the wall.

"You're so gross," she says rolling her eyes as I grab some toilet paper to clean myself up.

"Let's switch stalls," I say breathlessly as I tuck myself in and I zip up my jeans.

"Don't you think they will notice us missing?" she asks me, raising an eyebrow.

"Look at all the fucks I give," I smirk, and I pull her out of the stall. The men's restroom is deserted, since nobody in the hotel likes to use them, apparently. We could go to my room, but this is more exciting, and there is no way we can go and do this in her room, not with the guys being on the same floor.

We get into another stall and I lock the door behind us, pushing Clare against the wall almost immediately.

"What are you doing?" she gasps as my hand fumbles with the button of her jeans.

"Returning the favor," I say mischievously and she holds her breath as my hand slides down the front of her jeans and into her underwear.

"We don't have time, we- _oh_," she moans as soon as my fingers start touching her, slowly rubbing against her. She obviously got some sort of pleasure out of touching me, because she's wet, and this excites me to no end.

"Today it's our last night in this hotel," I say casually, my fingers moving fast.

"Yeah, I-I know," she chokes, and my fingers slide inside of her. She tenses up and her hands tug on my hair, her eyes closed and her mouth open. She looks so sexy, and this just causes me to increase my speed.

"Am I still in the doghouse?" I ask, my fingers sliding in deeper and deeper.

"_Eli_, just shut up..." she is gasping for breath, and we hear the door to the restrooms open. I keep fingering her and she bites her lower lip, hard, and I have never felt so turned on. The man takes a while to finish his business, and we finally hear him walk out, and Clare lets go of her lip.

"Oh my God," she moans loudly, and my eyes fix on the cross around her neck, so I feel amused by her blasphemy.

My fingers are still moving, and she's still moaning, she's not even bothering to keep quiet anymore. I finally feel her tighten around my fingers and I kiss her, just like she kissed me when I came, and her fingers dig into the back of my neck.

We keep kissing, slowing down, and she smiles against my lips. We just look at each other for what it seems an entire minute, until our breathing returns to a normal level. "You're forgiven," she mumbles happily and my heart soars.

"Thank you," I breathe, and I kiss her again.

**_Later_**

For some reason, I can't stop smiling, and Adam has noticed.

"Taking that nap helped, huh," he says as he looks how Zane is fixing my hair.

"Yeah, it did," I lie, the moment I shared with Clare still very vivid in my mind.

"Zane, do you mind giving us a moment?" asks Adam, and Zane nods, leaving us at once. The door closes and I turn around on my chair, facing Adam.

"Okay, here's the thing," sighs Adam. "I don't mind... I don't mind you and Clare hooking up or whatever. As long as it doesn't affect the profile, I'm actually okay with it. Um, you seem to feel better whenever you hang out with her, and I just want you to be happy and-"

"Adam," I interrupt. "What Clare and I have is just casual, it's not like I'm marrying her or something."

Adam studies me with his eyes and I hate it, I hate it because I know that he can see right through me. I look away and just stare at my reflection in the mirror, pretending to be checking out my hair.

"Your life doesn't have to be a Bright Eyes song, you know," says Adam calmly. "You deserve to be happy. Because I know... I know that you're still carrying around the guilt of Julia's death. And I swear, I know what happened that night, I've always believed you, please, never doubt that."

"Can we not talk about this before a reading?" I plead. "Especially when I'm about to read something from a book that is about her."

"Okay," says Adam tiredly. "I'll just go get Zane."

"Hold on," I say, standing up. "I... I don't want us to be mad at each other. But it hurt that you went behind my back and did that, called Imogen. You should have asked me about Clare before that, and maybe..."

"I know, I know," says Adam sadly.

"But then again, if you hadn't called Imogen, I would have never found out about her and Drew," I smirk. "So, I guess I owe you."

"I guess you do," he mocks, and I pull him into a hug.

"You're my brother, Adam," I say. "I... You're the only one I can trust, I just want you to know that."

"Same here, man," he squeaks back, and we let go. We stare at each other for a minute and we start laughing, laughing at the awkwardness of it all.

"Okay, I will go get Zane now," he chuckles, and winks at me.

**_Later_**

I tap the microphone with my finger and I look around the room, looking for familiar faces. I act confident on stage, but I'm always freaking out in my mind. I see Adam and Drew in a corner, Johnny and Zane in another, and Clare is sitting with the rest of the attendees.

She smiles at me and I smirk back at her, hoping nobody noticed. "Hello, how are you guys doing?" I ask quietly, and people murmur their responses. I could never be a rockstar, it seems.

"I'm going to read a few lines from _Utopia_, which I'm sure most of you have read already," I say. "You might have a better voice than I have, so bear with me."

The crowd laughs at my stupid little comment and I glance again at Clare, who is looking at me tenderly. Wow, I never thought a look could affect me as much, because I can't control how fast my heart is beating. And it's not a panic attack, this is something else.

"O-okay," I stutter, and I open the book to where Adam marked the page. I recognize the words this time, and I wonder if Adam chose them for a particular reason. I remember brainstorming about this part while hanging out at a bar with Adam, when we were both talking about our past loves. He kept going on and on about how Fiona Coyne broke his heart, and I kept ranting about how I would never love again, not after Julia.

"_I had this dream last night, a dream of uncertainty,_" I read. "_I was happy and I had moved on, I had forgotten her. Her ghost was gone, I had moved on, I had forgotten her. I was a bird and had met a hurricane, and the hurricane pulled me in. It was a whirlwind, it was confusing, it was everything. We were everything. But it was a dream, one I woke up from, but..._"

I stare at the book and then I finally look up and the audience is nodding along, but I can only see Clare. She's writing down things in her notebook but I want her to look at me, I don't know why, but I just want her to look at me. She looks up and smiles at me, and I don't bother looking at the book again.

"_I wonder if this hurricane exists,_" I finish, my eyes still on Clare, and the applause blurs everything.

**_Later_**

"One of your best readings yet," says Adam approvingly as we wait for the elevators. "We are leaving this city with a bang."

"Back to the bus tomorrow," says Zane miserably. "Where's Drew?"

"He was talking on his phone... with Bianca," says Adam, his voice full of meaning.

"Oh," I say and Clare makes a funny noise next to me.

One of the elevators comes to a stop and the doors open, and Adam points at it. "You two can take that one," he says, looking at me and Clare.

"Ah, thanks," I say nervously, and I beckon Clare to follow. We both walk in and as the doors close I see a knowing smile on Adam's, Zane's and even Johnny's face. Oh, they're making fun of me, I see how it is. Bastards.

The doors close and I let out a sigh, turning to look at Clare. She's tugging nervously at the sleeve of her denim jacket, and I frown.

"Hey," I say, touching her in the arm.

"Hey," she says back, and smiles. God, that smile.

"What are we doing tonight?" I ask. "Do you want to watch a movie in my room or something?" I'm so pathetic, asking her out for a pseudo date. Ugh.

"Um... I want to go to your room, but..." she is very pale, but when she faces me, I can see determination in her eyes. "I don't want to watch a movie."

"Oh, what do you want to do then?" I ask, feigning ignorance in case I'm misreading the entire thing.

"I want to spend the night with you," she says, and she blushes like a little girl who just caught doing something wrong. I want to say something witty, or something nice, or something along the lines of those epic romantic movies she seems to like.

But as always, I can't form a proper sentence with her around me, that is the kind of effect she has in me. I wonder if she noticed my behavior during the reading, the way I looked at her.

She said earlier that I'm forgiven about the whole Imogen thing, but I don't know what to think.

"Unless... you don't want to," she blurts, and we arrive to her floor. I'm still silent, trying to process the meaning of this, and I press the button to my floor.

"Eli-" she starts as the doors close yet again, but I just pull her close to me and I kiss her ardently, my tongue quickly invading her mouth because I want to show her that I need her, that I need to be with her more than ever, that she is making me feel things I shouldn't be feeling.

I want to show her that I genuinely like her. That she's not another notch in my bedpost, that she actually means something to me.

We continue to kiss as we finally get to my floor, and we make out all the way to my door. I hope that nobody saw us, but if they did, I don't care, let them see. "I need to find the key," I say breathlessly as my hand reaches my back pocket.

"Okay," she mutters against my jaw, and I feel so turned on it's not even a laughable matter.

I finally find the card key and I swipe it, and we stumble in with our hands all over each other, and somehow I manage to close the door with my foot. I remove her jacket at once, dropping it aside as we kiss our way through the luxurious sitting area, but I want her on my bed, that's all I want.

We finally make it to the bedroom, barely alive, and I unbutton her blouse swiftly, wanting more of her, wanting to see her without clothes. Our tongues have reached an utterly intense rhythm, and I groan desperately as Clare's fingers undo the buttons on my shirt.

We fall on the bed and I have her pinned down as I try to take off her jeans, my lips still moving fast against hers, the sounds of our kissing echoing throughout the room. I don't know how this happened, but suddenly I'm just wearing my boxers, and she's just wearing her underwear, and I need to stop to look at her. I pull away from kissing her and I look at her body, my lips parting in delight. Finally.

I kiss her again, my tongue brushing the roof of her mouth and then I tease her teeth, and she's whimpering as my fingers slide down the front of her panties. God, she's so ready. I know I am.

My fingers go deep inside of her, and she arches her back, her moans soft but dirty. The fabric of her bra brushes my nipples, and I groan, turned on by the friction. I need to see her naked, I need to see every single inch of her or I will lose my mind.

I stop fingering her and my wet fingers trace lines on her stomach as I unhook the clasp of her bra with my other hand. I finally see her breasts and I'm speechless. She's blushing, but she has nothing to be embarrassed about. She's perfect.

"Clare, you're just..." I can't even speak properly yet again, the air is so hard to breathe and I kiss her, my lips moving slow. I want to taste her forever, I don't want to stop being with her like this.

But my body is urging me to act, and my mouth is soon on Clare's breasts, licking and biting softly every spot. I love the little gasps that escape her; those sounds get me off, they're so intense. I'm so hard, but I just focus on her as my lips trail down her stomach, biting here and there, and she lets out a little scream.

"Oh god," I choke at the sound, and she mutters something, but I can't think properly. She is making me feel things I've never felt before and she's not even touching me. I move up, our lips locking, our tongues fast and eager, and my fingers tug on her panties, quickly removing them.

"Hold on," I breathe, and I get up hesitatingly, walking over to my bag. I quickly find a condom and I try to hurry up, because I can't wait, I can't wait to be with her, and my shaking hands are not helping.

I finally manage to get myself ready and as I walk back, I can't help but admire her. She's in the middle of the bed, her cheeks very red and her body covered in bite marks, _my_ bite marks, and I grin. I get on top of her and I can't catch my breath, it's impossible.

"Clare, you're beautiful," I tell her. I don't care if it sounds cheesy, I don't care if it's not the right time... it's the truth.

She doesn't say a word but she smiles. That's enough.

I gradually push into her and I completely lose it, my heart is a wreck, my mind is gone, and her body is everything. Her fingernails dig into my back and even though that has been done to me before, this is different. This is incredible.

She's looking into my eyes as I start thrusting faster, and I can't breathe, think, nothing. I'm lost in her eyes, in her body, she's everything I need. She doesn't know it, and I won't tell her, no, not now.

"I just..." I gasp, almost losing control of my body as she closes her eyes and lets out the most sensual moan I have ever heard. Holy fuck, I can't deal with this, this is too much.

And she's not faking it, I'm not faking anything, and this is too real. I kiss her hard and almost violently, a drop of sweat trickling down the back of my neck. Our lips are clashing in a never-ending battle, it's as if we're trying to prove some sort of point. I don't know what hers is, but what I want to prove is that I want her to be mine.

Mine, just mine. I don't know where this sense of possessiveness came from, I've never felt so strongly about someone before, not even Julia. But this is not love, it can't be.

"_Eli,"_ she moans loudly, her body pure fire underneath me. I feel her tighten around me and her back arches again but I keep moving as I press my lips on hers, her screams muffled. I want her screams to die in my mouth, I want to keep them inside of me, because that's the kind of greedy person that I am.

"Clare, I can't-" I groan, and I come, my parted lips breathing heavily over Clare's. This orgasm is breaking me apart, my body feels numb yet raw, and I can't stop the sounds escaping my mouth. It just goes on and on, it's almost infinite, and I feel her tighten around me again because I haven't stopped moving, and I feel my heart stop.

Am I dead? I don't know, but this does feel like heaven, so... who knows? Maybe Atheists do get some sort of afterlife.

Everything spins around me and I lay on top of her, my lips close to her neck, and I feel her fingers running through my hair. We are both silent, our heavy breathing doing the talking.

She cuddles next to me and kisses me as my arms wrap around her, holding her naked body close to mine. She brushes her fingers against my cheek and I close my eyes, feeling completely blissful. There is this emotion I can't recognize growing inside of me, but I can't tell what it is.

I lied to myself when I said that our first kiss meant everything.

It meant nothing compared to this.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi. My heart and the title of this fic belong to Panic! At The Disco **

**Author's note: Short but necessary chapter coming your way! I should be able to update again on Friday, not sure. Many of you have asked me how long this fic is going to be. To be honest, I'm not sure. But it IS going to be one of my longest fics yet (no worries, you won't have to go through 50 chapters) because of all the things that still need to develop. Thanks for the reviews!**

"_I know it's mad, but if I go to hell would you come with me or just leave? I know it's mad , but if the world were ending would you kiss me or just leave me?"_

_**Do You Know What I'm Seeing?, Panic! At The Disco **_

I wake up and toss around for a bit, my legs completely tangled in the sheets. My arm reaches out and I blink confusedly when I realize that Clare is not next to me.

Oh, no.

I sit up and run my fingers through my hair, my heart stopping briefly. Then I hear the sound of water running in the bathroom and I sigh with relief. She's still here.

I look around for my boxers and I slip them on, walking slowly to the bathroom. The door is wide open and I just stand in the doorway, watching Clare wash her face. She's only wearing her underwear, and her curly hair is a mess as she wipes off her face with a towel.

I walk toward her in a swift movement, and I press my chest against her back, my arms wrapped tightly around her. She squeals loudly as I place a kiss on her exposed neck, enjoying the taste of her skin. Clare tastes different now that we've slept together. She tastes better.

"What are you doing?" I mumble, pressing my lips on her shoulder.

"Washing off my makeup," she explains. "What are _you _doing?"

"I'm about to beg you to come back to bed with me," I sigh pathetically. She turns around to face me and our bodies are pressed together, her arms around my neck. Her fingers gently tug on my hair and she smiles, her face bright red.

"Hmm, begging?" she says softly, and I kiss her. My fingers dig deep into her hips, bringing her closer to me. She moans quietly against my lips and that's enough to turn me on again. I just need her, desperately.

"I… beg… you…" I breathe between kisses, and I drag her along with me.

_**The next day**_

We're sitting next to each other in complete silence, both of us reading a book. I'm reading _Invisible Monsters_ by Palahniuk and she's reading _Eleven Minutes_ by Paulo Coelho, both of us acting like nothing happened between us last night.

"Watch your driving," groans Drew, who is sitting across us in the lounge area of the bus. He looks completely miserable, and I raise my eyebrow at Adam, who merely shakes his head.

"Sorry," calls Johnny, and slows down. Zane is texting frantically, a huge smile on his face, and I know that he's texting Riley.

"I'm starving," I say suddenly, putting my book down.

"We're supposed to come across a diner in the next few minutes," says Drew, glancing at the map sitting on his lap. He looks distraught, and I can't help but feel sorry for him. I wonder if he told Bianca about Imogen or something.

Or maybe he misses Imogen, what do I know? Maybe he fell in love with her and now that she's gone he realized that he can't live without her. How... lovely.

"That's nice," I say, and I glance at Clare. She grins, but her eyes are still fixed on the book. I'm still thinking of last night, of the way her body trembled underneath mine, oh, and those moans of hers. She's just... I have no proper words to describe how amazing she is in every single way.

I'm turning into a sap.

We finally arrive at the diner, and as always, Adam is the first one to leave the bus, his motion sickness getting the best of him. I just stretch in the parking lot, my hands touching the tip of my toes and then I stand straight, yawning as I look over at Clare.

"So tired," I say meaningfully.

"Me too," she replies, her blush giving everything away. We walk behind Drew and Adam, who are already discussing the plans for the next city. Part of me wants this tour to be over already so I can rest for two weeks before the real madness begins, but the other part of me wants to hang out with Clare.

Maybe... maybe we can hang out during the break. I mean, still keeping it casual and all, but... I don't think that I can give her up right now. Not that I'm falling for her or anything, I just really like her company. And now that we have actually slept together, I just can't help it, I really like her.

Oh god, I'm a walking contradiction.

"I'll be right back," says Clare, pointing to a little gift shop next to the diner.

"Do you want me to go with you?" I ask, squinting my eyes in the sunlight.

"No, you guys just go ahead and order," she smiles, and walks away. I stare after her, watching how her hips sway slightly when she walks, but how she's still shy with her every movement. But last night, it was different. It was like she had no inhibitions with me, as if she could be herself with me, and I feel guilty for not being able to offer her that. I know she knows things about my past, but I still feel like a liar.

I feel a hand close on my shoulder and I turn around just to see Zane grinning at me.

"You really like her, don't you," he states.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I blurt as we walk into the diner.

"Right, right," teases Zane, and I can feel myself blushing. Blushing? What the hell? We sit down at a tiny table and I keep waiting for Clare to come back, distracting myself by chatting with Adam about cars. A few more minutes pass by, and Clare finally walks in, and she takes a seat next to Johnny, who is sitting across from me. Johnny focuses his attention on Clare, suddenly extremely talkative. Clare is showing him some of the stuff she bought, and Johnny seems genuinely interested.

No, I'm not jealous. Why would I be? She's just talking to Johnny and Johnny is talking to her, and she's smiling at him. But she's not smiling at him the way she smiles at me, so... no, I'm not jealous. What a ridiculous thought!

"Did you find something?" I interrupt after the waitress takes our orders.

"Sorry?" asked Clare, looking away from Johnny.

"Gift shop," I say coldly.

"Oh, I found a couple things for my mom," she says nonchalantly, and looks back at Johnny, resuming their conversation. She ignores me for most of the meal, and I'm trying to control myself and not punch somebody. But I'm not jealous. No, I can't be.

"Hey, man, you look kind of pale," says Adam, but I ignore him.

I don't even finish my sandwich, I just want to get back on the road. We exit the diner, and I can't stand the excited chatter between Johnny and Clare, who are walking behind me.

We get inside the bus and I walk directly to my room, not bothering to talk to anyone in the process. Why am I acting like such an inmature idiot? Clare is free to talk to whoever she wants but...

No, I'm not falling for her, this is casual and I'm not-

Fucking hell, I'm falling for her. Good job, Elijah Goldsworthy, you managed to fall for the only girl who wants nothing but a casual thing with you. Even Imogen wanted a serious relationship at some point. Oh my Kurt Vonnegut, I'm fucked.

The bus starts moving and I sit on my bed, trying to figure out how to get out of this mess I got myself into. Okay, maybe I should stop sleeping with her. Fuck, it's funny how I thought that fucking her would get her out of my system. It only got me more involved with her. Damn you, Clare Edwards, damn you and your fucking blue eyes and your smile and everything you are.

There's a knock on the door and I'm pretty sure it's Adam, wondering how I'm doing. I open the door and see Clare standing there, with her usual recorder and notebook.

"I told them I would come back here and talk to you," she says, and walks in like nothing is going on. Can't she see that I'm having a crisis?

"About what?" I snap.

She raises an eyebrow at me, obviously confused. "In case you forgot, I _am_ writing a profile about you..." she starts.

"Why don't you write a profile about Johnny?" I finally blurt, and she starts laughing.

"Oh my... are you jealous?" she says in amusement.

"No!" I lie. "I just... You slept with me last night!"

"I know," she frowns. "I was there, Eli."

"Twice," I remind her.

"I remember," she snorts. "Why is this relevant? Just because I was talking to Johnny it doesn't mean I want to sleep with him. You're making me sound like a floozy."

"No, I never intended to- ugh," I sit on my bed again and I close my eyes, ashamed of myself. "Well, maybe I was a bit jealous."

She giggles and sits next to me, and I open my eyes. "Johnny is not my type," she explains.

"You don't have to... this is just casual," I say wretchedly. "You shouldn't have to explain yourself to me."

"That's what I told you with the whole Imogen thing," she grins. "But if I'm, um, sleeping with you, believe me, I have no intentions of sleeping with other people."

Good, that's perfect.

"Ah, cool," I mumble, and digs her hand in her pocket.

"I got some stuff at the gift store," she says calmly. "And I saw this."

She grabs my hand and places something on my palm, and I look at it curiously. It's a key chain, and a tiny hearse is dangling from it.

"Whoa," I say, looking closely at the key chain. "This is pretty amazing."

"Well, you don't have Morty anymore," she says brightly, and I want to kiss her, but I refrain myself. "Why would someone want to drive a hearse is beyond me..."

"The back is excellent for making out," I wink.

She stares at me in silence for a minute, and when I'm about to thank her, she opens her mouth to speak.

"Did you use it a lot with Julia?"

My heart is failing me, the sky has fallen, and I'm about to throw up. She knows. She fucking knows.

"Um..."

"Jay told me about her. I contacted him after we left Edmonton, and we had a long conversation on the phone. That's how I found out some of the stuff about you, especially about the hearse. I'm good at getting information, and Drew is not that great at keeping people quiet."

"Figures."

"I'm sorry... about her death. Jay told me it was an accident."

Oh. So she doesn't know, _know_.

"Yeah," I gulp, still staring at the tiny hearse between my hands. "I- I don't like to talk about it."

"You don't have to. Your books have done the talking for you," she says, and she sounds sorry. "I shouldn't have brought this up right now, I shouldn-"

I press my lips on hers and I kiss her slowly, the way she kissed me that night at the park. I don't want her to find out about what really happened with Julia, because she may end up hating me. And I can't live with that, I just couldn't.

"Thanks for the key chain," I breathe. "But I'm really, really tired, and I want to sleep. Do you mind if we talk about this... later?"

She nods and touches my cheek with her hand, making me close my eyes immediately. Her hand leaves my face, and I hear her pick up her things and leave the room, leaving me all alone with my thoughts.

**_Later_**

"_Why did you break up with me?" I ask miserably. It's raining, and we're both standing on the roof of her apartment building, soaking wet. _

"_You're too much," she slurs, and my eyes focus on the bottle of vodka. _

"_Please, Julia, this is not the place to talk about this," I groan. "Let's just get back inside, okay?"_

"_No," she says. "I'm not going anywhere with you. You're sick, Eli."_

"_Julia, please..."_

"_Stay away from me!" _

I open my eyes and realize that the bus stopped moving at some point. Everything is eerily still, and I rub my eyes as I get out of bed and out of my room. The bus seems deserted and I wonder if I'm still in my nightmare, but everything feels real, so that possibility is discarded at once.

I get out of the bus and I realize that we're in the middle of fucking nowhere and that night has fallen already. We're parked next to a sleazy-looking motel and I feel utterly confused. Drew is talking to some guy who is wearing a wife-beater, Adam is on his phone, Zane is texting his life away, and Johnny is smoking a cigarette near a lamppost.

"It's going to take you all night?" protests Drew to the wife-beater-wearing guy as I approach them.

"Yes, sir," the guy says in a tired tone. "You may not be able to leave until tomorrow afternoon."

"Fantastic, just fucking fantastic," says Drew hysterically. "We have an important interview tomorrow! What's your name again? I will report your ass!"

"Sean Cameron," says the guy calmly. "And I'm the boss, so your little complaint would be going nowhere."

"Drew, what happened?" I ask as I poke him in the shoulder.

"The bus broke down, obviously," retorts Drew. "We'll have to spend the night here..." Drew eyes the motel uneasily, and sighs.

"Where's Clare?" I ask. "I promised her I would talk to her about stuff and other important issues for the profile."

"She's already in her room," says Drew. "Here's your key. I was going to wake you up, but Clare told me you didn't feel well, so I just let you sleep."

"Cool," I say, taking the key. "What's her room number?"

Drew eyes me suspiciously but says nothing about it as he pulls out a list from his pocket. "289," he says. "This is just fucking great, Eli. Just fucking great."

"I'm sure you'll deal with it," I say, patting him on the shoulder. "See you later."

I go back to the bus and quickly grab my bag, careful not to show my nervous in front of the guys as I leave the bus once again. I'm pretty sure that Zane and Johnny suspect something by now, especially since Zane made that comment. I quickly make up my mind about what I'm about to do, and I hope that I don't chicken out before I manage to talk to Clare.

The motel looks like the kind you only see in horror movies, but it doesn't take me long to find Clare's room. I knock on the door and she takes a while to answer it, but when she finally does, I can't help but feel safe.

"Hey," she smiles, her hair still wet from the shower. "This motel is disgusting."

"Looks like it," I shrug. "Want me to keep you company in this creepy place?"

"Sure," she says, and I walk in.

I turn around to face her, taking in the fact that she's wearing pajama shorts and the same baggy shirt she wore the night we almost kissed. I consider my words carefully, not knowing if she'll believe me or trust me or even play along with me.

"I want to talk," I say slowly. "About Julia."

"Okay," she nods.

"But... I want to do this first," I say, moving closer to her and brusquely wrapping my arms around her, making her gasp. I kiss her, not slowly and patiently like I did in the bus, but full of lust instead.

She starts to push me away but she gives in, opening her mouth for me. We're kissing sloppily and haphazardly, but that's how I want this, I don't want any romantic feelings involved tonight. Because I feel that once I tell her the truth about Julia, Clare will never want to be with me again.

This is only sex, it's only casual, and it's just the beginning of the end.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi. My heart and the title of this fic belong to Panic! At The Disco.**

**Author's note: Hopefully this chapter will answer some questions. Also, the bits that are in italics are part of Eli's conversation with Clare, he is also telling her that. **

"_I've got my heavy heart to hold me down, when it falls apart my head's in the clouds. So I'm taking every chance I've got, like the man I know I'm not."_

_**Turn Off The Lights, Panic! At The Disco **_

So much for casual sex.

I'm lying on my stomach, half of my face hidden by the pillow, the other half completely exposed. My eye fixes on Clare, who is lying on her side, her blue eyes surveying me calmly. One of her hands is tracing lines on my back, and she's just waiting for me to start talking.

This isn't what I planned.

I wanted to fuck her and then, after everything was over, I wanted to talk to her about Julia. But no, the moment she gasped my name before coming changed my mind. I like her, I really, really like her, and I just...

So, we've been lying here in complete silence for the last five minutes, our bodies still covered in a thin layer of sweat, our faces still red. Words are failing me, I don't want to tell her about Julia, I don't want to lose Clare. This is how pathetic I am.

"What do you know about Julia?" I say finally, knowing that I can't avoid the topic any longer.

Her fingers are still on my back, and she takes her time before replying to my question. "Jay just told me you two used to hang out at his shop all the time," says Clare. "That you seemed happy and all, and that one day you stopped showing up. That a couple of days later he read on the newspaper that Julia had died. He didn't go into details, again, but he said it was an unfortunate accident."

An accident. I don't know if you can call it that.

"Ah," I say, and I move, sitting up on the bed. I press my back against the headboard, staring nervously at my hands, and soon enough Clare is also sitting next to me, covering her body with the sheets.

"I don't know where to start," I say miserably. "Is this going to be in the profile?"

"It's part of your life, isn't it?" she shrugs. "But... it doesn't have to be. I just like having both sides of the story. It's a journalist's nature, you know?"

"Not all journalists," I point out.

"Well, most of them, anyway," she chuckles. "Why don't you start with how you guys met?"

A small smile appears on my lips as I think of the day I met Julia, when she sat in front of me during detention. "We were both fourteen," I say. "Troublemakers. I got detention that day because I defended Adam from some bullies... You say you know about Adam, right?"

"Yes," nods Clare.

"Well, these kids were bullying him and I decided to fight them back," I sigh, closing my eyes and opening them immediately. "But I was the one who got in trouble. So anyway, Julia was there, she snapped at a teacher or something. I remember that her clothes were covered in paint, even her long hair had some paint on it, and I told her."

"_Thank you, Mr. Obvious," says Julia as she turns around. "I'm an artist!"_

"_With no regard for personal appearance," I mock. _

"_Oh, you don't find me attractive?" she retorts. "I guess I will have to live with that, won't I?" _

"We started hanging out after that," I continue. "I just fell madly in love with her, it was... intense. Everything with us was volatile, we were too similar, we were both stubborn as fuck and we just weren't meant to work out. But we stayed together, we thought that love was the solution to everything."

My heart is already aching, and I feel my voice starting to break. Will Clare forgive me for what I did? Will she believe me?

"A little after her fifteenth birthday, she told me that she had applied for some summer workshop in New York," I say.

"_They will let me know if I got admitted sometime in April," she tells me, excitement all over her face. _

"_That is... great," I say uneasily. _

"_Eli..." she starts, not looking at me in the eye. "If I get accepted, I'm not coming back to Terrace." _

"Why? I mean... why did she want to stay in New York?" asks Clare curiously.

"She had problems at home," I explain. "Her mother abandoned the family when Julia was three, and his dad remarried. Julia's stepmother was horrible to her, sometimes even physically abusive. Julia used to stay at my house all the time, hiding from her. So, Julia told me one of her aunts lived in New York, and she was planning on staying there with her and apply for citizenship. She had all these plans... and I wasn't aware of them."

"_What about us, Julia?" I ask hysterically, and I feel my chest starting to hurt. _

"_Eli, we're fifteen," she says simply. "We'll move on."_

"_So, if you get this, you will break up with me?" I gasp._

_She just stares at me with her big brown eyes, and I feel like I've already lost her. _

"We fought for days," I groan. "I... I lost my mind. I truly did. I felt that I wouldn't be able to live without her, I would call her and threaten to kill myself, threaten to crash Morty while driving. She got tired of my neediness and anxiety and..."

"Clare, what I'm about to tell you will probably make you hate me," I say sadly.

"Just... Eli, when was the last time you talked about Julia? Like this?" she asks, her hand reaching for mine.

"The day after her death," I admit. "With Adam."

Clare's eyes are filled with concern, and I have to look away. I don't deserve her pity, her concern, damn, I don't deserve _her_. I have never been so open about Julia's death, and I'm about to risk everything in front of the girl I'm falling for.

If this is not stupid, then I don't know what it is.

"I hacked into her email account, got into the art school's website and I..." I stop, still hating myself for what I did. "I saw that she had been admitted. I also noticed that she hadn't logged in yet, so there was no way she knew she got in. I fucked up. I sent an email notifying admissions that Julia wouldn't be able to attend, but that she was grateful for the opportunity, blah blah."

"Oh my God, Eli," gasps Clare, and I can feel her slipping away already, even though her hand is still clutching mine.

"I thought Julia would never find out," I continue. "And that she would be stuck in Terrace with me, and that she would take me back. That's how sick I was, Clare. Fuck, I was completely insane."

"Did she... find out?" asks Clare, her voice barely audible.

"She did," I say dryly, and I close my eyes, ready to tell Clare about April 22nd, about the night my life changed. I swallow, my throat hurting because everything hurts right now. I'm suddenly fifteen again, and I'm answering my phone just to hear Julia's voice say, "We're done."

_I've been driving so fast, I'm surprised nobody stopped me. I get out of the hearse, the rain already pouring on me, and I enter the apartment building. The elevator ride takes forever, but I finally reach Julia's floor, and I run to her door, feeling how the anxiety is already getting the best of me. _

_Julia's stepmother opens the door, an annoyed look on her face. _

"_Is Julia here?" I ask breathlessly. _

"_She's on the roof," the woman says carelessly. "She was freaking out over something, I have never seen her so mad... Such a temper, that idiot."_

_I want to say something mean to her, but I have no time. I just walk away and find the staircase that goes up to the roof, almost slipping on the stairs because my shoes are drenched. I finally reach the door and Julia is standing very close to the edge, her clothes dripping water, and her hand is wrapped around a bottle of vodka. _

"_Julia!" I call, but my voice is drowned by the thunder, so she doesn't hear me. _

_I call her again and then she turns around, and the look she gives me makes me shiver. She is pissed off, I have never seen her look so angry, and she holds the bottle high as she glares at me. _

"_What the hell are you doing here?" she yells. _

"_I came here to talk-"_

"_I have nothing to say to you!"_

_She is so furious, and I don't even know why. _

"_Stop it. Stop it, you're drunk."_

_She sneers at me as she takes another drink, her wet hair plastered to her forehead. _

"_You're not the boss of me, Elijah Goldsworthy!"_

"_Julia, you're too close to the fucking edge!" _

"_Fuck you, Eli! Just get out of here."_

_She drinks some more, and I feel completely drained. Julia never drinks, so I don't know what is causing this behavior. She didn't sound drunk when she called me to break up with me, so I don't know what is going on. _

"_Why did you break up with me?" I ask miserably. _

"_You're too much," she slurs. _

"_Please, this is not the place to talk about this," I groan. "Let's just get back inside, okay?"_

"_No, I'm not going anywhere with you," she says angrily. "You're sick, Eli."_

"_Julia, please..." I say, stepping closer to her. _

"_Stay away from me! I know what you did. Oh, God, I know what you did."_

_And suddenly, everything makes sense. She found out about the school. _

"_I can explain..." I start._

"_I got a letter from the school, telling me how sorry they were that I declined admission," cries Julia. "I emailed them to tell them I did no such thing, and they emailed me back with a copy of the email I allegedly sent. Those were your words, I knew it at once. You have a distinct way of writing. You're... You're fucking insane, Eli! How could you do this to me? I will have to reapply next year, but I can't live here anymore, you just ruined everything, you just-"_

"_I'm sorry, I just wanted you to be with me!" I say desperately. "I love you, Julia. You're the love of my life."_

_She scoffs as she walks back and forth, still too close to the edge of the building. _

"_We're meant to be together," I insist, and my vision is momentarily blurred. I feel desperate, and anxious, and I can't breathe, and I can't think. She's leaving me anyway, she hates me, oh god, she hates me. "We're soulmates!"_

"_We don't want the same things!" she yells, the bottle dangling from her fingertips. "You're just... so... damaged. I can't deal with you, Eli. I'm too young for this. You're manipulative, and sneaky, and..."_

"_Julia, just step away from the edge," I say, my breath stopping with every step she's taking. _

_She drops the bottle and it shatters, glass shards flying everywhere. She moves closer to the edge,and I want to reach out but for some reason, I can't move. _

"_We're not meant to be!" she yells, and just like the bottle, my heart breaks. _

_She's too close to the edge, and there's an odd smile on her lips, but she's going to fall if she keeps moving..._

"She slipped," states Clare, in realization tears running down her cheeks. "It was an accident, Eli. She slipped, it wasn't your-"

"She didn't slip," I say hoarsely, and Clare stares at me. And the truth comes back to me after all these years, it hits me with an incredible force, and I feel nauseous and disgusted at myself.

Because I told everyone that I didn't kill her, but my heart knows I've been lying all along. I told them Julia slipped, but that was a lie. A fucking lie.

"_You ruined my life," says Julia drunkenly. "I have no life now."_

"_Julia, please..."_

_That smile is still on her face, and she turns around, and I can only see her back ._

"_Julia!" I yell, sprinting toward her, but it's too late. _

"She jumped," I wince, and I pull my hand away from Clare's to cover my face with it. "She didn't slip, she killed herself because of me. I killed her, Clare. I killed my girlfriend."

The only sound in the room is the one coming from the air conditioning, which is loud as hell. I breathe deeply as the meaning of the words I just spoke sinks in. I have never said that out loud, those words have always been in my head, I've always kept them inside.

But people in Terrace were right. Maybe I didn't push her, but I sure as hell killed her with my actions. I drove her to the edge of desperation, my selfishness destroyed her, and I killed her. My mind goes back to the night when the police released me from questioning, when Adam visited me at my house.

"_All these rumors..." he starts._

"_Do you believe them?" I ask dryly, pulling the covers close to me. _

"_Eli, you're my best friend," he says slowly. "But I also know that you were intent on keeping her here, and maybe... maybe your anxiety got the best of you..."_

"_I didn't push her," I breathe. "Believe me, I didn't push her."_

_Adam considers me for a moment, and then he smiles sadly. "I believe you. But you need help." _

I blink, my mind back in the present where Clare Edwards is still not saying a word. "Get dressed," she says suddenly with no emotion in her voice, and she gets out of bed. Is she kicking me out?

But she's getting dressed too, so I only follow her orders, anxious to know what she's thinking. It takes us a few minutes to get ready, and our hair is messy as we leave the room, and she's running. I run after her, aware of all the noise we're creating.

There's a field next to the hotel, and I feel uneasy when I see Clare running toward it. But I keep following her, she's a magnet, and I can't help but wonder what's going through her mind. She stops running and I catch up with her as we hit an open spot on the field.

"I needed fresh air," she explains nonchalantly.

"So we had to run all the way over here?" I ask, glancing at my watch. "It's late. It's an open field next to a creepy hotel. You do the math."

"Let's lay down," she says, ignoring my last comment, and we both lay on the grass. The stars are extremely bright, and I realize that I haven't been paying much attention to the sky lately. Hmm.

"Did you get help?" she asks after a couple minutes.

"Not at first," I confess. "I... I went through a hoarding phase. You know, when you-"

"I know what hoarding is," she interrupts.

"Well, yeah, I did that for a while, and then my parents got desperate and sent me to therapy," I sigh. "It helped, but I found out that writing helped the most. I wrote _Pieces_ while waiting at the doctor's office."

"_She was an artist_," quotes Clare, my words sounding soft in her voice. "_And like all artists, she broke hearts. She broke sick hearts and made them worse. But sick hearts deserve the pain._"

I say nothing, and we just lay there in silence, my heartbeats returning to normal. My heart doesn't feel that broken anymore, but it still hurts. Sometimes. Most of the time.

"You didn't kill her, Eli," says Clare calmly. "You... didn't handle things the way you should have, but you didn't kill her."

"I don't know, Clare," I blurt. "I drove her to that point."

"You two were impulsive and fifteen," she says. "You didn't kill her."

"I didn't push her," I clarify. "Do you believe me when I tell you that I didn't push her?"

"Of course I do." And those four words mean the world to me, because her opinion has never mattered so much. I feel tears stinging my eyes as I think of all the things Julia could have done, how her paintings would have sold, how she would have had a future if I hadn't been so stupid.

"You made a mistake," says Clare. "But I think that you've burdened yourself enough."

"I don't know about that," I whisper. I feel how her hand brushes mine, and suddenly, her fingers slide between mine as we look at the sky.

"Well, I know," she says softly. The kindness in her words overpowers me because she believes me, because she is still here, because she's holding my hand.

Maybe... maybe it's time to let go. I can't change what I did, I can't bring Julia back. I messed up and I will always carry that with me, but I never intended to hurt Julia. I loved her, I did. I will always feel guilty for what I did.

But Clare makes me want to let go of that, because... as cheesy as it sounds, she makes me want to be a better person.

"We only have a week and a half left," I mention.

"Yeah," she says, and she moves closer to me, her forehead pressed against my shoulder.

"Any plans for the two-week break?" I ask her, clearing my throat.

"Just continue writing your profile," she chuckles.

"Maybe... you can come and hang out with me, you know, for more research and stuff," I say nervously.

She kisses me on the cheek and I feel how she's smiling against my skin. "Maybe. Thanks, Eli."

"For what?"

"For opening up to me. I know that it wasn't easy, and that you've tried to keep that in the dark. But it means a lot to me that you trust me enough to talk about it."

"Why?" I ask, my heart pounding wildly inside my chest.

"Because... I like you," she says quietly, and I turn my head to face her, searching for her lips. Our kiss lasts seconds, minutes, hours, but time is not relevant to me now.

Clare is all I see.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi. My heart and the title of this fic belong to Panic! At The Disco**

**Author's note: To answer one of your questions... Yes, I DO read all your reviews! It takes me forever to catch up with them, but thank you so much for all your feedback/suggestions/jokes/etc. You're amazing!**

**Short chapter, but I'm kind of sick... Also, next chapter, I think you might want to prepare for that. :) **

"_So tell me right now, you think you're ready for it? I wanna know why you've got me going. So let's go, let's take it out of here. I think I'm ready to leap, I'm ready to live, I'm ready to go."_

_**Ready to Go (Get Me Out Of My Mind), Panic! At The Disco **_

"You look so fantastic," grins Zane, looking tired but excited nonetheless.

"Thanks," I smile shyly. I run my fingers over the black suit jacket I'm wearing, grateful that Drew let me wear my normal black jeans. I don't think I could handle wearing a complete suit, it would suffocate me.

Drew gives me a thumbs-up, and I realize that all of us look exhausted. Having to spend the night at the motel was hell for most of them, and then Johnny had to break several speeding laws on our way here. Drew was very adamant about getting here on time for the damn interview.

I'm tired because of a completely different reason. Talking about Julia's death was draining, but I'm glad I did it, and I'm glad I talked to Clare. She was very understanding about the entire matter, which surprised me, but made me feel relieved too. She didn't run away.

I glance at Clare and she looks beautiful, as always, and the smile she is directing toward me is enough to make me blush slightly. Everything between us is different now, and I think we both know why. Strangely enough, I'm not freaking out.

"Come on, Eli," says Adam, glancing at his watch. I give Clare a last glance and she mouths "good luck" to me, and I smirk confidently at her.

Pfft, interviews. I'm quite decent at them.

The set is surrounded by bright lights, and I scratch my chin as I feel the makeup starting to sting. Apparently, I'm too pale for TV, although I've never considered myself pale at all. Oh, well. A pretty redhead is standing next to the show's producer (I met him earlier... Blue? I think his name is Blue), reading a script.

"Hey!" says Blue cheerfully as he sees us approaching.

The redhead looks up and a tantalizing smile is on her lips. "Well, a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gold," she says, shaking my hand. "I'm Holly J. Sinclair, I'm the one who's interviewing you today. And call me Holly J."

"She's a pro," beams Blue, and I try not to roll my eyes. Ah, so Miss Sinclair is obviously fucking him. Holly J is not my type, but she's beautiful, so I can't really blame the guy.

I mean, I fell for Clare Edwards. It happens.

"Follow me," says Blue as he tries to fix his horrid tie. I step on the set, a fake version of a "cozy" library, and Blue points at one of the chairs, so I sit down.

Holly J sits on the chair across from me, placing the script on her lap as she continues to smile at me. She's making feel uneasy, because her smile is not sincere, it's the smile of someone who knows something they shouldn't.

"There's water here," says Blue, pointing at the bottle. "Anything you need, we'll stop the filming since this is not a live interview, we'll edit, and so on. Are you ready to start?"

I nod as I rub my eyes with my hand, wishing I were somewhere else, not here. Yes, I'm quite decent at interviews, but I still hate them. Because I have to lie, I have to twist the truth, and it gets tiresome after a while.

"5..." starts Blue, and I look directly at Holly J. "4... 3... 2...1..."

"Welcome back to our Arts and Entertainment special, I'm Holly J Sinclair," says Holly J into the camera, all smiles. "We are now sitting with Elliot Gold, best-selling author of the novel _Utopia_, which has caused quite a stir around the world."

She turns to look at me, and I give her a modest smile. "So, Elliot, how do you feel about the response for your work?" she asks cheerfully.

"It's been a bit overwhelming," I admit. "But I really appreciate that people are taking the time to read my books, it means a lot to me, as a writer."

"You're currently in a multi-city book tour," she continues. "And after you're done with Canada, a world tour is next. Has it been fun?"

Fun. Ha, sure, why not.

"I think interesting is a better word to describe it," I say dryly. "I mean, the readings have been amazing so far, but the traveling part has been ridiculously chaotic. But yeah, I guess I've had fun."

"Who's J?" asks Holly J out of nowhere. Not even a goddamn transition question, wow. People are very ballsy these days.

I raise an eyebrow and I can feel Drew and Adam panicking in the background, but they shouldn't worry. I can handle this. Better than that infamous Q&A, I suppose.

"It's you, Holly _J_," I retort sarcastically.

Holly J laughs, but it's an eerie laugh, and her mouth is twitching. "Nice save, Mr. Gold," she winks. "But I think that everyone is dying to know who this mysterious person is, because it seems that_ Utopia_ is all about her."

"Or him," I say, my smirk becoming very pronounced.

I think Drew just fainted, because I just heard a thud somewhere.

"Yes, what's up with all these gay rumors?" asks Holly J , eager for gossip.

"It's the hair," I say lazily, and I'm just having fun now.

"Well... are you gay?" insists Holly J.

"I don't know, there is only one woman in my crew," I drawl. "Is that a clue, maybe?"

Holly J's eyes widen, and I know she's falling into my little game, which pleases me. "I thought we were here to discuss my books," I chuckle.

"Well, yes, but people are also interested in your personal life," says Holly J briskly. "It's bound to happen when you become a famous author. Do you have anyone to share this triumphant moment with? Someone special?"

"My agent, my publicist, and all the people you see in that corner," I say, pointing at the crew. Drew is nowhere to be seen, but Adam smiles nervously at me. The camera focuses for a bit on them, and I can see Clare trying to hide.

"No, you know what I meant," says Holly J cheekily, and the camera focuses on us again. "Your books are filled with loneliness and darkness, so I wonder if you're actually happy in real life. Are you single? Are you in love?"

It takes every single ounce of willpower in my body not to turn and look at Clare again. Am I single? Well, Holly J, I have nothing official going on with Clare, so I guess so. Am I in love? I'm not sure, but all I know is that every single second I spend with Clare is amazing. So, I really don't know.

"Are you asking me out?" I sneer at Holly J, but she remains composed.

"I'm afraid not," she says curtly. "But, I'll take your evasion of the question as a yes."

"You would be assuming," I point out. "And you would be mistaken."

"Would you rather have me ask you about Terrace, British Columbia?" she asks dangerously, and this is not funny anymore.

"Stop! Stop!" says Blue, waving his arms around and looking upset as Drew trails closely after him. "Holly, what the fuck?"

"It's Holly J," snaps the interviewer, standing up.

"I swear to God, you and Ellie are driving me insane!" groans Blue. "None of those questions were on the script-"

Drew is also yelling but I'm sitting here, my palms sweaty, my heart racing. Ellie... Ellie Nash... fuck, they know each other. What is going on? When did this get out of control?

"I know nothing, Ellie just told me to ask him about Terrace!" barks Holly J as Drew closes a hand on her wrist. "Let go of me, you asshole!"

"Come on, Eli," says a deep voice and I look up. Johnny is grimacing at me, and I follow him, grateful that I don't have to stay and witness this mess. I don't pay attention to my surroundings, I just know that we're walking... walking...

No big deal, my past is out there now and soon, everything will be destroyed. It was fun while it lasted, I guess. Pretending to be someone I'm not.

I blink and I realize that we're in a cab on our way back to the hotel. Johnny is sitting next to me and hands me some tissues, and I start wiping off the makeup on my face. He is silent, only talking when he gives directions to the driver. I stare at the tissues on my hand, the makeup stains all over them. Now I feel weird without the makeup, I feel bare and unprotected. I don't know, I feel like my mind is playing tricks on me, like it's trying to destroy me.

It's as if every time I'm starting to feel happy, something shitty happens and it all falls apart.

"You... need to be careful," says Johnny finally. "With the people you trust. Just... be careful."

"What are you talking about?" I ask hurriedly.

"Don't trust people, that's all," says Johnny gruffly, and the cab comes to a stop. "Let's get you to your room."

We step out of the cab and Johnny beckons me to walk in front of him, which I do. But his words are in my head now, and I wonder if he knows something I don't.

Wouldn't be the first time. I'm always the last to know.

_**Later**_

_She is the calm before the storm. When I'm with her, nothing matters. But as soon as I step out from this thing we have, everything burns. _

I stop typing and stare at the screen, reading my own words with contempt. I know that I'm a good writer, but I don't think I'm as good as people make me out to be. I feel like I'm an impostor sometimes, because I only write about my life but it seems that people like it. So maybe I'm not really a writer. Maybe I'm just a narrator.

My phone buzzes again, but I told Drew I wanted to be left alone. After that horrible excuse of an interview, I feel exhausted, and I just don't want to talk or pretend everything is all right. I did tell Drew about Ellie Nash, though, and he said that he would work on it. Fine, I don't want to worry about that anymore.

I try to ignore the persistent buzzing, but it's getting on my nerves, so I grab the phone and look at the screen. It's a text from Clare.

_Are you okay?_

No, I'm not. I'm never okay.

_**Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired. **_

_After that "interview", I can't blame you. I'm tired too. Didn't sleep much._

_**I guess that's my fault. Sorry.**_

_Don't worry about it, Eli. _

_**I'm writing right now. No, text messaging doesn't count as writing, Miss Edwards. Actual writing. **_

_That's great!:)_

_**You know... I think I need some help. It would be nice if someone offered to help. Cough.**_

_Is that an invitation?_

_**Do you want it to be? **_

She doesn't answer right away, and I put my phone down, feeling stupid. Maybe I should give her some space. After all, I just told her about Julia yesterday. That's a lot to deal with. I glance at my phone again and she hasn't replied, so I go back to my writing.

_It's darkness engulfed in blue. It's beauty surrounded by light. But these fingertips of mine destroy, they blemish, they rot. Run away or stay. Stay or run away. _

"Stay or run away," I repeat to myself, running my fingers through my hair. I don't know what I want, really.

My phone buzzes and I smile when I see that Clare finally responded.

_Room service. :) _

I let out an amused chuckle and I stand up as I close my laptop and walk toward the door, feeling like a giddy teenager. I open the door and there she is, her trademark smile blinding me at once, and that idiotic interview is briefly forgotten.

"You needed help with something?" she asks brightly and I pull her in, placing a soft kiss on her lips.

"Yes," I breathe as I pull away from the kiss, and she blushes.

"Writing, right?" she asks as I walk away from her and sit on the edge of the bed.

"I need... _inspiration_," I say dramatically, and she surprises me by sitting on my lap. I am at a loss for words, and she seems surprised by her own bold move.

"I don't know how to help you with that," she says quietly, and kisses me.

_**Later**_

I've had sex many times before, but I have never felt like this.

I pay attention to every single detail of her face, the way her nostrils flare a little when I make a sudden movement, the way her lips part when I dig my fingernails into her skin. She is straddling me, our bodies connected, her legs wrapped around me, and I love the fact that we're facing each other. It feels tremendously intimate, but it's also extremely arousing at the same time.

Her breasts are pressed against my chest and I love this, how her skin touches mine and how it sends shivers down my spine. I breathe shallowly whenever she moves, her movements are slow but sharp, and I kiss her forcefully. My hands are all over her back, scratching here and there, and her fingers get tangled in my hair as she moans. One of my hands moves to her hair, and I tug on it gently so her neck gets exposed.

I hold my breath for a split second, because the way she just moaned almost made me lose control, and I press my lips against her throat, tasting her. We're both taking our time, it seems like we're not in a hurry to finish, and that's fine. This is perfect.

My tongue explores her neck, and I bite her softly, tugging on her sweet skin with my teeth. She whispers my name as if whispering for salvation, and I want her to know that I'm the one who has been saved. She has saved me. Just like that.

I stop kissing her neck and I pull her in for a kiss, deep but slow, and she starts moving slightly faster. "_Fuck_," I gasp as our lips separate, and her blue eyes are looking into mine, filled with shyness and innocence. How is that even possible?

I hold on to her hips and low moans escape her, her eyes now closed. Her hands are placed on my shoulders, her fingers digging in, it almost feels like she's about to break my bones. But I don't mind the pain, I'm actually getting off on it.

"Oh, god," I mutter as our urgency kicks in, as we both start moving faster, as if our patience is gone. All the tenderness and sweetness that we shared earlier has disappeared; it has been replaced by our instincts, our want, our need. Because I _need _her, I _want_ her, and I hope she feels the same way. I know that she likes me, she already said that, but I want this fiery feeling to consume her as well.

She's moaning and gasping and I'm trying to hold on, I want her to finish first. Her face is close to mine and our noses brush constantly as she moves, and I finally capture her lips. I'm sucking on them, biting them, making them mine. Because I don't want anyone else to kiss her the way I'm kissing her. I don't want anyone else touching her like I do. Because I know that I won't let any woman be this intimate with me, because I'm hers. Clare had me from the moment she said hello that day at the restaurant, the first time our eyes met. I know it now.

I'm hers, I'm only hers. If the truth about my past comes out, I won't care. I only care about her. I really don't know if this is love, but I sure hope it is.

"I... oh... _oh_," she moans loudly, clutching my shoulders as she trembles and I kiss her again. My breath is erratic as I come, and we both hold on to each other as we continue to kiss, as we continue being together.

I need to tell her. I need to tell her that I don't want this to be casual anymore, that I want something serious with her. As we both recover our breath, our eyes meet, and she gives me a flushed smile.

I think she knows.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi. **

**Author's note: You can throw stuff at me later. **

"_She didn't choose this role, but she'll play it and make it sincere so... you cry. And they'll believe it from the tears and the teeth..."_

_**Time To Dance, Panic! At The Disco **_

She's so beautiful when she sleeps. I just stare at her for what seems hours, and I realize I can't get enough of her. I look at the alarm clock on the nightstand and groan; a press roundtable is starting in two hours, and I have to get ready.

Can I just stay here?

I move closer to Clare, wrapping my arms around her naked body, and she stirs sleepily. Hmm, I need to wake her up.

My lips tease Clare's neck, and then I place quick kisses on her skin, smirking to myself. And... she starts giggling. She's giggling. It's seven in the morning and she's just giggling.

"Stop it," she giggles, and I stop my attack. Her phone starts buzzing on the nightstand next to her and she reaches for it, but I'm still not letting go.

"Hello?" she answers breathlessly, and I continue to kiss her neck. "Oh, hey, Wesley."

I look up at the mention of a male name, and she shakes her head at me. "Editor," she mouths, and I shrug before continuing my attack on her skin.

"Oh, really? That... is unfortunate," she says, hitting me with her hand. "Yeah, I can do that. No, don't worry about it, it's okay. Um, I'll catch that flight, yeah. No, I'm sure they will understand. I have enough material for the first part... okay. Don't worry about it. Okay, see you soon. Bye."

She hangs up and throws her phone to the side, and she looks at me with sad eyes. "We only have two nights left," she sighs, and I raise my eyebrows at her.

"No, we still have a little over a week left," I state.

"My editor needs me to cover this event," she says, caressing my chest with her hand. "I have to leave in two days. But hey, I'll be in Toronto when you guys come back..."

She trails off, waiting for my answer. I kiss her, not knowing what to say, and she kisses me back.

"Yeah, the two-week break," I mutter against her lips. "And then we'll have to fly to New York for the first stop of the world tour. Fun."

"I will hold your hand during the flight," she grins, and I feel myself blushing.

"So, two days," I say, brushing the outline of Clare's lips with my fingertips. "That's a bummer."

"I know," says Clare regretfully.

"You know what?" I say. "Let's just make the most out of these two days. I think that staying in this room would be a great idea. Just a thought."

She presses her lips against mine, our legs tangled underneath the sheets, and she sighs happily.

"Maybe you're right," she whispers, our lips brushing.

"I'm always right," I say huskily.

"Know-it-all," she teases, sticking out her tongue. I take advantage of this and I suck on her tongue, causing her to press her body closer against mine. We kiss feverishly, and I really, really, don't want to leave. Who cares about the press roundtable? I just want to focus on Clare.

My fingers trail down her stomach and she moans as I touch her. It doesn't take me long to realize that she's already wet, and I smirk against her lips. "I have a few minutes to spare," I say, and my lips kiss her chin, her neck, her collarbone. I get rid of the sheets and I stare at her naked body. I place my hands between her thighs and I gently spread her legs, and when I look at her, she's blushing deeply.

"What are you going to do to me?" she asks innocently.

I can't stop smirking, and I glance at my watch. "You have no idea."

_**Later**_

"It was nice to not be attacked for once," I sigh before taking a bite out of my sandwich.

Adam chuckles at me and then stares in delight at his enormous burger. "This is beautiful," he says with starry eyes.

"You will never change," I mock, and he grins at me.

It's nice to hang out with only Adam for once, it's been a while. I called Clare after the press roundtable and told her I would see her later, and she said she couldn't wait. It's weird, having someone waiting for you. I still haven't asked Clare to be my girlfriend, but I will, eventually. I just need to gather up the courage to tell her.

"Adam," I say seriously, and Adam nods as he continues to devour his burger. "I need to tell you something."

"Go ahead," mumbles Adam, his mouth full of food.

"You know about what's going on with Clare," I say, biting my lower lip nervously. "Well, um, I kind of... I really like her. And I... I want to make it official."

Adam swallows and his eyes widen, looking completely shocked. "Wait, wait. You want to make it official? As in... calling her your girlfriend?"

"Yeah," I say defensively.

Adam continues to stare at me in disbelief, and I'm starting to feel uncomfortable. If he's not okay with is, I don't give a fuck, I really don't. I just thought I would let him know.

"That is..." And suddenly, he's smiling widely at me. "That's pretty fucking amazing! Dude, I can't believe it! Oh, man, look at you. You're going to be somebody's boyfriend. How _cute_!"

"It's not cute," I pout, but I'm glad that Adam approves.

"Okay, as your publicist, I need to ask you to wait," says Adam, now sounding business-like. "Before going public, that is. You guys need to be discreet until after the profile comes out, okay? And you need to tell Drew."

"Why?" I groan.

"He's your agent," says Adam, raising an eyebrow. "Let me text him. I'm sure he'll join us."

Great. I didn't know that a personal decision would have to involve Drew, but that's fine. I continue to eat while I think about how to approach the subject with Clare, and I feel childish. The last time I asked someone to be my girlfriend was... never. I never really asked Julia; it was just implied. And the girls after her were nothing serious, of course. Maybe I'm growing up at last, how amusing.

Adam starts asking me questions about Clare, and I answer some of them ("so, she's single, right?") and some of them I don't ("how many times have you guys slept together?").

We're almost done eating when Drew joins us, a flustered look on his face. "You rang?" he teases, his anxiety disappearing as he sits down with us.

"Eli has some news," says Adam mockingly, and points at me. Drew looks at me happily, waiting to hear what I have to say. Damn it.

"I met someone," I say, my words sounding stupid. "I, er, I really like her. So, yeah, I met someone."

"I know," says Drew, and I look at Adam, who looks confused.

"What?" blurts Adam, and I feel confused too.

"I know about you and Clare," grins Drew, stealing some of my leftover fries. "I'm not stupid. It's pretty obvious."

"Well, I-"

"Eli, it's okay. That's awesome, dude," says Drew, but I know that he doesn't like Clare, so he sounds strained. "Just great. Do you mind keeping this quiet before the profile comes out? After that you can marry her, okay?"

I have a huge smile on my face and I can't help but hug Drew. Adam joins us in the hug and it's like we're teenagers all over again, celebrating over some stupid, meaningless shit.

"Whoa, calm down," chuckles Drew as we all let go of each other. "I'm so happy for you, Eli. I promise."

I look at him and I smile, forgiving him for the whole Imogen thing. "I know."

Drew chews on more fries and looks at me quizzically, a smile on his lips. "So, when did this start? I started suspecting after we left Edmonton..."

I start giving him so details, but my mouth is running automatically. My thoughts consist of only Clare and I'm stressing out about telling her how I really feel. We won't have time tonight, I have a reading and a signing, but tomorrow night I'll be free. I want to make the last night we spend together before she flies back to Toronto a special night. Maybe we can go out to dinner and...

Wow, she _has_ changed me. I feel nervous and anxious and other things I can't really describe.

I think I love her.

_**The next day**_

"What is taking you so long?" I whine as I sit on Clare's bed.

"I'm a girl, okay? I need time to get ready," she calls from the bathroom, and I sigh mockingly. We're in my room, and I've been waiting for more than thirty minutes, so I'm getting kind of impatient. Plus, I'm extremely nervous about asking her to be my girlfriend, so she better hurry up before I explode.

"I'm dying out here," I snap playfully, and she finally emerges.

She's wearing a blue dress, high heels and what looks like a grayish-silverish cardigan. She looks... amazing. I just want to skip dinner and rip that dress off her and-

"You look so beautiful," I say, my eyes all over her.

"Thanks," she nods, her blush giving away her nerves as always.

I'm about to stand up and walk over to her when my phone starts buzzing in my pocket. Ugh, not now. I look at my phone and see that it's Drew the one who's calling. I guess I'll take it.

"Hey," I say, and I smile at Clare as I hold on to the phone.

"I need you to come to my room, it's kind of important."

"Can it wait?"

"It will only take a few minutes," says Drew, and he sounds desperate. "It's really, really important."

"Okay," I say exasperatedly, and I hang up.

"What happened?" asks Clare as I walk over to her. I kiss her briefly and I smirk at her as I brush my hand against her cheek.

"Drew needs to talk to me or something," I shrug. "Just stay here, it won't take long."

"So now _I'm_ the one doing the waiting," she winks.

"Serves you right," I tease, and I steal another kiss from her.

_**Later**_

"It's unlocked," calls Drew from the inside of his room, and I push the door open.

I walk into the room, trying to stop my jittery behavior. Drew is standing up, and a man I have never seen before is sitting on the chair by the desk, his arms crossed. The man has a serious expression on his face, he looks pissed off, and I almost want to suggest him to relax, even though I have no idea who he is.

"Hey... I thought we were going to be, you know, alone," I say cautiously. I'm already wasting my time, being here in Drew's room, when I could be telling Clare that I want to be with her, that I want her to be my girlfriend.

"This is Mark Fitzgerald," says Drew coldly, pointing at the man.

Mark Fitzgerald? The name sounds familiar for some reason...

"Mark is the owner of a community theater in Mississauga," explains Drew, and everything makes sense.

"Oh, yeah, Clare wrote about you," I grin, remembering the article that I liked so much. "It was a really touching profile, Mark. That was-"

Mark looks at me directly in the eye and sighs sadly, as if he's about to deliver bad news. I feel my heart freeze with terror, but I don't know why I'm feeling so apprehensive, the man hasn't even said a word.

"Call me Fitz," he says, and stands up. "I found out that she was writing a profile about you, and I just had to contact your agent. We need to talk about Clare Edwards."

I raise my eyebrows at both of them, because they are looking at me as if they're feeling sorry for me. I have no idea what is going on, but I don't like this at all. I glance at Drew but he looks away, pity etched on his face. Fuck, what the hell is going on?

"Um, okay," I mumble uneasily.

There is hurt in Fitz's eyes as he looks at me, and his finger toys with the cross around his neck. I remember how Clare wrote about Fitz's past as a troubled teenager, and how "God" helped him find his way back to normalcy. I just stand there awkwardly as Fitz seems to struggle with himself, with what he's about to say. Damn it, just spit it out.

"Clare... is not the most ethical journalist in the world," says Fitz carefully. "I didn't want to share most of my past when she interviewed me. But she got under my skin, and she seemed nice and understanding... I fell for her."

What? No. No way. No, no, no.

"I'm married, but I guess temptation was stronger than anything, and I had an affair with her," continues Fitz, and my heart can't handle it. "I poured my heart out to her and she seemed to be... I don't know, she was supportive and all. Then she got all the information she needed and when I told her that I was willing to get a divorce just for her, she ended it. I never heard from her until the profile came out, and I felt so used. I called Clare, and she just yelled at me and said that she had information about me... she was blackmailing me, see? My wife still doesn't know about the affair..."

Fitz looks at the wedding band on his finger sorrowfully, and he looks like he's about to cry. Well, I'm about to throw up. This can't be happening, this can't be real, Clare likes me, she does, she does.

"Be careful," pleads Fitz. "I don't want you to go through what I've been through. She will do anything for a story."

Yes, anything. Fuck.

Fitz is still talking to me, and tears are rolling down his cheeks, but I'm zoning out. Clare played me, oh, she is a smart one. No wonder I couldn't figure her out, she's fake. Oh god, she's just like Imogen. Fake, fake, fake, everything between us was fake. I can't...

"Eli?" asks Drew, and his hand is on my shoulder. "Dude, are you okay?"

"Yeah," I say dryly. "Thanks, Mar- Fitz, for... you know, the heads-up."

"No problem, man," he says, and shakes my hand. "Don't tell her I... don't tell her I came here, okay? If she finds out, she'll probably call my wife and-"

"Don't worry about it," I say blankly.

No, don't worry. Your timing was perfect, Mark Fitzgerald.

Drew escorts Fitz out of the room and I sit on the chair where the man was sitting before, and I bury my face in my hands. I feel shattered, and my insides are bubbling with anger and hurt.

"Wow, that was... yeah," says Drew, and I know that Fitz is gone. He was a fucking tornado, he just fucked everything up. I can't trust anyone, Johnny was right. No wonder Clare was quick to catch up on the Drew/Imogen thing... she knows liars because she is one.

"He called you?" I ask hoarsely.

"Yeah, it was out of nowhere," says Drew, sitting on the bed. "I mean, he left me tons and tons of voicemails and I finally got to talk to him a few days ago... I'm sorry. I know how excited you were about having a relationship with her, but she's just a fucking liar. I knew it, I knew something was wrong with her. Do you want me to call her editor?"

"No," I say suddenly. "She needs to finish the profile."

"But Eli-" starts Drew.

"Let me take care of things," I say, standing up. "I don't want her to lose her job, as fucked up as her methods to get the story are. I'll end things between us and make her life miserable while she tries to write her article. That's how we'll deal with this."

I feel the darkness run through my veins, I can almost taste my apathy in my mouth. I missed it, I missed being a cynic and a pessimist, Clare took that away from me. Well, tough luck. I look at Drew, and he looks mildly excited. He always hated Clare, so of course he's loving this.

"At least she doesn't know about Julia, right?" sighs Drew pleasantly. "Man, that would suck."

She knows too much, and yes, it does suck. Fuck, I was so goddamn stupid.

"I have to go," I say bluntly, and I leave the room.

_**Later**_

She's already sitting on the bed, going through all of her notes. The liar. The fake.

"You're here," she says, making it sound like she's missed me.

"How observant," I say coldly, and I lean my back against one of the walls.

She stands up and walks over to me, looking concerned. Save me your fake pity, Clare Edwards. I know your game now, just stop it.

"What's going on?" she asks, her sweet voice making me nauseous. I want to hate her, I need to hate her. Because I love her, and she doesn't love me back.

Why did I fall in love with her? I'm such an idiot.

"We need to talk," I say somberly and she crosses her arms.

"Okay," she responds, slightly defensive. Maybe she knows, maybe she saw Fitz walking around... I don't know anymore.

"Um... I know you're leaving tomorrow morning, that's why I thought we should talk before you left for Toronto," I explain condescendingly. She just blinks at me, waiting. "But something came up, so I can't go out tonight, might as well talk to you now. This... thing we had... this is it, okay? It's not going any further than this."

"What are you talking about?" she frowns.

"It was fun while it lasted, fucking around and all," I say. "But it needs to stop before it starts being more than casual."

There are many emotions crossing her face, but before I can identify them, she starts talking. "Oh, Eli, we stopped being casual a while ago," she snorts. "I think you're just freaking out, and that's okay. But-"

"I'm not freaking out, I'm being serious," I retort. "This is over. I can't sneak around with you during the world tour, it's going to be impossible. It was just sex, Clare."

She looks tremendously hurt, of course she does. Now she can't use sex to get me to confess things, so I win. I'm the winner in this, she will have to deal with the consequences, I don't really care.

"You're being ridiculous," she says stubbornly. "We were never about just sex, Eli! We have something else going on, but I think that you're just afraid. If this is because of Julia..."

"Shut up," I say angrily. "And don't you dare use what I told you about her against me. I was in a vulnerable place when I told you about that, so shut up. You don't know anything, and I'm not scared."

"There is something between us, Eli, and you know it!" she cries, and I want to laugh at her pathetic acting. I can be a great actor as well, just watch me.

"Well... sorry I led you on," I snap, and something inside of me breaks.

Her eyes are filled with despair and sadness, something I didn't expect. No, she's supposed to feel relieved, relieved because she doesn't have to fake liking me anymore, she's free. Goddamn it, Clare, you're supposed to look relieved.

"Wow," she gasps, and she looks miserable. "To think that I... I... I have to get out of here."

She walks toward the door and then she turns around, and I can see her cheeks shining with tears. Why is she crying? I feel the urge to run to her and console her, but then I remember what she did to me, what she did to Fitz.

"See you in New York," she says, everything sounding suddenly final, and she leaves.

A headache hits me all of a sudden and I can't process anything, I just fall on the bed, blinded by pain, and I close my eyes. I miss her already, I miss the way she kissed me, the way she moaned, everything, all of it.

She's gone. And my heart feels it.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi. **

**Author's note: Hey, if you like The Hold Steady, there's a reference in this chapter! ;) I'm still sick, but this chapter was quite easy to finish, and I just want to ask you to hang in there. **

"_You remind me of a former love that I once knew, and you carry a little piece with you. We were holding hands walking through the middle of the street. It's fine with me, I'm just taking in the scenery."_

_**I Have Friends In Holy Spaces, Panic! At The Disco**_

_**Weeks later**_

This hangover is killing me.

I munch on crackers as I stare through the window of my apartment, taking in the view of the city. I lick my fingers as I sigh, pressing my forehead against the glass. I'm afraid of heights, but this apartment is great, so... Sometimes we have to make sacrifices. My back is stinging, and I don't know why. I try to remember what happened last night, and little by little, the memories come back.

I was trying to forget _her_. But as always, it didn't work out.

I hear someone trying to open my door and I know it's Adam. He's here to make sure I'm already packed, to make sure that I'm not bailing on them, because we leave for New York today. He's here to make sure that I'm still alive.

Poor Adam, he's my designated babysitter. I've been miserable since I "broke up" with... I don't want to say her name. It hurts to just let it escape my lips, it hurts letting her name enter my thoughts. But all I can think about is her body, her lips, and her eyes.

I miss her so much. I love her so much. But she lied to me, she used me, and I can't help but think that I deserved it.

"Dude." I look over at the door and Adam is standing there, holding his key in his hand. I was right.

"_I'm always right," I say huskily. _

"_Know-it-all," she teases, sticking out her tongue. I take advantage of this and I suck on her tongue, causing her to press her body closer against mine._

I wince, because the memories are coming back and it hurts so fucking much.

"You've been drinking again," he sighs, looking at the discarded bottles on the floor. "And your back is covered in scratches."

Oh, that explains the stinging. Hmm. Oh! The girl I met at the bar last night, yes, of course. She's still in my bedroom, sleeping on my bed.

"Eli, you need to get it together," says Adam sadly, picking up stuff from the floor. "Stop moping around, you ended it, okay? I'm not defending Clare, but you were the one who called it quits."

I say nothing, because Adam just mentioned her name, which caused my heart to drop. Adam continues cleaning, lecturing me, and I can feel the bile rise in my throat.

"Even... Even if she did sleep with that guy," croaks Adam, and I turn to look at him. "It doesn't mean that she didn't have feelings for you. I could tell how much she liked you, Eli. You could see it in her eyes."

"Oh, you could tell?" I snort. "Adam, no offense, but this is coming from the guy who dated Fiona Coyne for two years before realizing that she was a lesbian."

Adam's face goes pale, and I know that it was unfair of me to bring that up, but... he mentioned Clare. He brought it up, so it's fair game.

"How nice of you to bring that up, knowing that I'm just hours away of seeing her again," says Adam, sounding hurt. "You know she's going to be at that party in New York, you're such an asshole. Why must you bring everyone down when you're depressed?"

"Fuck you, Adam," I snarl. "Nobody asked you to stay, nobody asked you to be my friend!"

Adam gives me a steely look and ignores me, and he continues to pick up my mess. He's always picking up my mess, in more ways than one. And here I am, being an ungrateful asshole to the only person in the world that I can trust.

"Sorry, I... I'm sorry," I say despairingly, and Adam shakes his head dismissively.

"Don't worry about it," he mutters, but I know that he's mad. Fine, I'm done apologizing.

I grab a random shirt that is lying on my couch and I put it on quickly, my eyes looking around for a pair of shoes. I notice my old sneakers sitting by the door and I walk over to them, rubbing my cheek with my hand. I think the girl I slept with slapped me at some point.

I put on my sneakers and Adam gives me a weird look. "Are you done packing?" he asks.

"Almost," I lie. "Hey, I need to go out for a walk. Can you do me a favor?"

Adam nods in defeat, his arms crossed as he studies me. "What?"

"There is a girl in my bedroom," I explain casually. "Can you... kick her out?"

The memories of a joke we shared weeks ago comes to mind, but we're not laughing this time. We're not laughing because this is part of my self-destruction, part of self-hatred, part of the mess Clare Edwards left behind.

Ugh, I just thought of her name. Stupid me.

"Fine," replies Adam neutrally, and I step out of the apartment.

As I start to walk, I hope that Adam doesn't pay much attention to the girl's looks. Because if he does, he will notice how her brown hair is short and curly, how her lips are almost full, and how her blue eyes are missing the innocence of a certain girl.

A bad imitation of the girl I fell in love with it.

_**Later**_

I'm barely keeping awake as Zane starts talking to me about how Riley hates the new color in the living room, so I'm just nodding along to my stylist's words. My mind is more occupied with other problems: my own.

I discreetly look around as frantic people trying to catch their flight surround me, and I keep hoping for a sight of her. But she's nowhere to be found, and I keep thinking that she's late again, just like last time.

She's not even here and she's already destroying me.

Drew walks over to us, looking happier than ever, and he hands me my passport. "Okay, guys, all of us are here," he says cheerfully, patting Adam on the back. Johnny makes a noncommittal grunt and glances at me, like wanting to say something. Yeah, I know. Everybody is feeling sorry for me, and that's fine. That is wonderful.

"Um…" I start, but I don't want to say it. I don't want to appear concerned about Clare's whereabouts; I need to pretend that I could care less about her existence. I need to be an actor.

"The _journalist_ is already in New York," says Drew slyly, noticing my hesitation. "She's staying there with a friend. Good, she saved us some money, so… that was very considerate of her. She's meeting us at Declan's party, of course she is-"

"Drew," says Adam, giving his brother an accusatory look.

"I might have been an asshole to her on the phone, the other day," says Drew nonchalantly. "Whatever. She's an unprofessional chick, so, I treated her like one."

I look at Adam and he just shakes his head, looking tired. I guess Drew is truly enjoying the fact that he can be openly mean to Clare now, but still. It's not… nice.

We start walking toward customs and Adam grabs me by the wrist, his lips pressed into a thin line. "We will be okay, right?" he blurts nervously, and I realize that both of us are hours away from facing the women who broke our hearts.

Declan Coyne is throwing a party for me as soon as we get to New York, and Adam has been freaking out about seeing Fiona again. After all, they haven't seen each other since their messy breakup, about two years ago. I have never seen Adam look so anxious or desperate, and I know that part of him wants to stay in his hotel room and avoid Fiona until we leave New York.

"We'll stick together," I nod. "You're my date to the party, you handsome man, you."

Adam chuckles at me and brushes his bangs off his forehead, color returning to his face. "And then you wonder why people think you're gay," he smirks.

I grab Adam's hand and I drag him along with me, a mischievous smile on my face. "They can think whatever they want, man," I say, and Adam starts laughing as we walk hand-in-hand to the gate.

_**Later**_

"Breathe. Come on, Eli. Breathe."

I breathe into the paper bag as I sit on my bed, the anxiety finally draining out of me. That flight was horrible, I couldn't stop thinking the plane was going to fall, and this was just one flight. I'll be on airplanes for more than a month, so I'll probably die during one of the flights. Goodbye, so long, that's it. I managed to keep control during the flight, but I broke down the moment we stepped out of the airport.

Adam is sitting next to me, staring at his tie as if trying to decipher something in it. I look up and see our reflections on the mirror in front of us, and we look pathetic. I have dark circles under my eyes, I've lost weight, and I look like a junkie. Adam looks extremely pale, he has a cut on his lower lip because he has been biting on it since we got here, and his eyes are vacant. What a pair.

"We have to go upstairs eventually," he says, referring to Declan's penthouse in this hotel.

"Eventually, yeah," I groan. "I don't want to see her."

"I don't want to see her either," mumbles Adam.

We're both talking about different women, but the pain is the same.

Both girls lied to us. They used us.

"We're so pathetic, Torres," I finally sigh. "Hiding from women who probably don't give a fuck about us."

"The epitome of pathetic," he agrees. "Come on, let's get wasted or something. I can't handle this nervousness anymore."

"Yeah, yeah, let's go," I say, standing up. We leave my room and I notice how Adam is shaking as we take the elevator, and I feel my phone buzzing inside my pocket. Drew, of course, he wants me up there now. After all, the party is for me.

The elevator's doors open and I feel overwhelmed at once. Everything looks too fancy, too stuffy, too fake. Everybody is wearing cocktail dresses and nice suits, and here I am, wearing a Dead Hand t-shirt, my leather jacket, and my skinny jeans. Forever a misfit and forever left out.

"This is…" starts Adam, his mouth wide open.

"Hell," I finish, and I grab a glass of champagne from a passing server.

"Declan must really like you, to go through all this trouble," says Adam bitterly, and I shake my head. For all I know, I've only exchanged a couple words with Declan during the years, so the fact that he is throwing a party for me is quite surprising. He still talks a lot to Drew, though, so I'm guessing that's why this happened.

"Eli- I mean, Elliot, my man," winks Declan, walking over to me and wrapping his arm around me. Okay, this is weird.

"Hi, Declan," I say in a small voice. "Thanks for, eh, all this."

"I always knew you would become a great writer," he says pompously, and I want to snort. "You didn't disappoint."

"Guess not," I mumble, not feeling comfortable at all.

"Oh, hey, little Torres," says Declan fondly as he looks at Adam.

"What's up?" says Adam awkwardly.

"Not much, just living the single life," chuckles Declan. "Oh, Fiona! Fiona, stop talking to Drew and come say hi to these guys!"

Declan finally lets go of me and I look at Adam, who looks like he's about to pass out. Fiona walks away from Drew and smiles at us, and I feel Adam tense up next to me. Oh, boy.

"Hi," she says shyly, and she looks radiant. She always looked great, even when she broke my best friend's heart. I will never forget the night Adam came to my apartment, looking broken, looking so lost.

"_You look like shit," I say, mocking him._

_Imogen comes out of the bedroom, wearing nothing but her panties, and she giggles when she sees Adam. _

"_Oops," she blurts, and runs back into the bedroom. Adam is struggling to speak, and he seems to be in pain.  
><em>

"_Fiona is a lesbian," he gasps, and I don't know what to say. _

"Fiona Coyne," I say darkly, trying to stand up for my friend.

"Hi, Eli, you look good," she says politely, and then her eyes fix on Adam. "I haven't seen you in so long."

"Two years," squeaks Adam.

"Twenty-four months," she nods, and I want to say something hurtful to her. She has no idea what Adam has been through, and she has the nerve of just acting like nothing happened?

"We need to catch up," says Fiona, and Declan walks away as he notices a cute girl standing nearby. Oh, great, I'm the platonic third wheel now.

"Th-that would be nice," says Adam, and he gives me a sheepish look. "Do you mind?"

Whatever happened to sticking together? Just go ahead and abandon me here while I try to avoid Clare Edwards. Never mind me.

"Nope, I'll just… Hey, you have an open bar!" I say happily, and I walk away. I can feel Drew looking my way but I just walk off, wanting nothing else but to get completely drunk.

"Double whiskey, coke, no ice," I say to the bartender, and he promptly gives me my drinks. A couple of girls approach me and attempt to make conversation, but I scare them away with my snobby and arrogant attitude, and I can feel them judging me.

Also, they're not Clare.

"Baileys, on the rocks," a male voice says next to me. I snort at the mention of such a girly drink and I turn to look at the guy who ordered it. He's wearing a really nice suit and his brown hair is neatly cut, but he looks extremely bored. Hello, fellow misfit.

"These events, they suck," he chuckles, nodding at me.

"You think?" I reply, sipping on my drink. "I can't wait for someone to start playing the piano in here."

"They beat you to it," he says merrily as he points to the piano player in the corner.

"Well, fuck," I scoff, and the guy laughs a little.

"I'm going to sound really stupid, but… you look like the author of those books," he says, pointing at the many books placed neatly on a fancy-looking table.

"That's because I am," I say dryly, and I push my empty glasses away.

"Oh, I'm not that stupid then," he winks, draining his glass in one gulp. I really hope he's not hitting on me or anything, because I'm really not interested.

"Yup, I'm Elliot Gold," I drawl, finishing my drink. My eyes search around the room, but Clare is still not here. Whatever, I don't care.

"Jake Martin," he grins, shaking my hand. "Wall Street Journal."

"Oh, how nice," I say through a fake smile. "A&E?"

"No, finance," he chuckles.

"Sounds thrilling," I reply sardonically, and I ask the bartender for another round.

"That is the general reaction," he says happily. "But I love writing about finance, I'm afraid, maybe a bit too much. Business and economics are my crack of choice."

"Nicely put," I nod, and I kind of like the guy. "What are you doing here, then?"

"I'm someone's date," he says, rolling his eyes.

"My apologies," I say, raising my new drink.

"A party just for you, must be nice," comments Jake as he puts down his empty glass.

"Snobby parties are my thing, what can I say," I shrug.

"I have to admit, I haven't read your books," he says sheepishly, and I find that refreshing. I don't need another brownnoser telling me how great I am.

"Lucky," I mutter.

"But when Clare told me that she was writing a profile about you-"

"What?" My heart stops, and Jake gives me a curious look.

"Clare Edwards? Brown hair, blue eyes? She's following you in this tour?" suggests Jake. "Of course, she told me you two rarely spoke to each other, so maybe you don't know who I am talking about."

I know who you're talking about, Jake Martin. Clare Edwards, the girl I'm in love with, the girl who broke my heart. The journalist who slept with me to get more information for her article, the journalist who I can't get out of my head. And what the fuck? She told him we rarely spoke? During sex, that is. She was too busy moaning, wasn't she?

"I know her," I say coldly. "But how do you-"

And then I see her. She's walking over to us, looking stunning, and there's a nervous look on her face. She is looking straight at me and I gulp, not knowing how to react. I haven't seen her since that horrible night when I broke things up between us, and I'm hurting. I'm hurting because she looks beautiful, she looks the same, and I look like crap.

"Jake, what are you doing?" she snaps, ignoring me completely. Oh. Well.

"Talking to Elliot here," says Jake nonchalantly, pointing at me. "I wasn't hiding from you, I swear."

"Hi," she says curtly, nodding my way. "I see that you have met Jake."

I can't talk, as always. Damn her and that effect she has on me.

"She's in a snappy mood," jokes Jake. "Apparently I forgot to send her a box or something. It doesn't matter anymore, the breakup happened ages ago!"

Breakup. Oh, he's the ex-boyfriend, the one who made her cry. Fucking hell, what is going on?

"You talk too much, let's go," says Clare, tugging on Jake's sleeve. So, he's the one she's staying with. She's her New York _friend_. Awesome.

"Why? We were having a nice conversation," I interject, and Clare glares at me.

"I'm sure you were, but I need to talk to Jake," she says through narrowed eyes.

"My girlfriend can be a little possessive," mocks Jake, and the world stops turning.

Girlfriend. _Girlfriend._ He called her his girlfriend. No, it can't be, because they broke up. She was crying that night because they were on a break. He's lying...

"Funny, I thought you were single," I say darkly, staring straight at Clare, and she looks away.

"We just got back together," says Jake, all oblivious smiles, and he kisses Clare on the temple. Clare and I stare at each other, the looks between us saying more than any words we could possibly exchange. She ran back to Jake after she left me? She was getting back together with him while I drank my life away, while I moped around and hated myself?

"Really?" I say, faking amusement.

Clare says nothing, but her silence tells me everything, and I can't bear the pain. She's never been mine, but this makes it painfully obvious.

I have never been stabbed in the heart, but this is what it must feel like.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi. **

**Author's note: I think that it's pretty interesting to see how you guys are reacting to Clare in this story, mostly because it's the first time I haven't written her POV. Okay, I didn't write her either in **_**Ashes Everywhere**_**, but this is a little different, I suppose. **

"_Is it still me who makes you sweat? Am I who you think about in bed?_

_When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress?_

_Then think of what you did, and how I hope to God he was worth it. When the lights are dim and your heart is racing as your fingers touch his skin. I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck. Than any boy you'll ever meet, sweetie, you had me."_

_**Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off, Panic! At The Disco **_

Someone's knocking at the door, but I don't want to bother looking. It's four in the fucking morning, they better leave or I will call security.

I had to leave the party; I just couldn't stand seeing Jake and Clare together. He looks at her with puppy eyes, and although she seemed uncomfortable, she was smiling at him. Not in the same way she used to smile at me, but I guess Jake gets an honest smile.

"Fuck off!" I yell as whoever is outside continues knocking.

"Eli, open the door!"

My heart stops at the sound of Clare's voice, and I'm shaking. I get out of bed slowly, wondering if she's product of my imagination, because I drank a lot at the party. I walk toward the door and I look through the peephole, and yes, that's her, there she is. I open the door cautiously, still not daring to believe it, and I look at her.

"We need to talk," she says, and walks past me.

"Hi, Eli, how are you? Fine, Clare, thanks for asking," I retort, but she ignores me. She paces back and forth as I close the door, and I cross my arms as I look at her.

"I'm trying to be polite," she says hurriedly, still moving around. "I'm trying to be professional here, so help me out."

Professional. What a joke.

"Spit it out, Edwards," I say, and she finally stops moving.

"I almost quit, you know?" she says. "I didn't want to be near you, not after…" She stops talking and fixes her eyes on my bed, blushing, and then she shakes her head.

"Whatever," I say, feigning indifference. If she only knew how her proximity is making me shake, how I'm suffering because I can't touch her…

"It's amazing, how you just ran back to your ex the minute I set you free," I say coldly.

"Jake? We're talking," she says, and she sounds so exhausted. "We're not back together, not officially. I know he called me his girlfriend, but… I don't know where our… whatever we have… is going."

Is she planning to break Jake's heart as well? Lovely.

"Right, right," I say stubbornly. "You just wanted to show me that you moved on, huh? How considerate of you."

She stares at me quizzically, as if trying to figure me out. She looks angry, she looks hurt, but there is no way in hell that her emotions mirror mine. Because I'm falling apart without her, and she doesn't know that. She will never know how much it hurts me to see her move on, how much it hurts not having her next to me.

"Don't you dare act like you're the one who got his heart broken in this, Eli," she says angrily, pointing her finger at me. "You were the one who ended what we had, so you have no right to come to me and be all reproachful about Jake."

"You're the one who came to my room," I snap. "I wasn't looking for you, Clare Edwards, get over yourself."

"You broke my heart!" yells Clare, and the pain in her voice is obvious. "I fell in love with you without planning to, and then you just ended it!"

"Love, right," I say sarcastically.

"Why are you acting like such a jerk?" she cries, and I can see the tears in her eyes.

Because you lied, because you lied to me, because you used me.

"Because I'm just another Mark Fitzgerald to you," I say tiredly, and her eyes widen. She's been caught, now she won't be able to deny it.

"What are you talking about?" she asks, shock and confusion sketched on her face.

"You slept with Mark so you could write a perfect profile," I mumble, and I feel extremely sad for some reason.

Her mouth is slightly open, like she can't believe what I'm saying. I want her to defend herself, to tell me that she _did_ sleep with him but that it meant nothing, that she used him but she didn't use me. Because she looks beautiful and I just want to kiss her and forget this ever happened.

"I didn't sleep with him," she says, and she sounds really, really offended.

"Stop lying!" I yell, frustrated.

"I'm not lying!" she says sourly. "I didn't sleep with him, that isn't possible. Because that is unethical, that is stupid, and there was no need for me to do that. Mark opened up to me so easily, easiest profile I've ever written. Besides, Mark would never be interested in me anyway. You're insane."

"Am I?" I blurt, and now I just feel confused as fuck.

"I… I have no idea where you got this from," she says. "But whatever helps you sabotage the thing we have… _had_, feel free to go for it. Jake is waiting for me downstairs, I just thought I would check on you."

She is about to walk away, but I grab her by the wrist and aggressively pull her closer to me, and she's struggling.

"Let… go," she breathes, and I silence her with my lips. I just want her to stop talking, I want to stop fighting, and I'm just not able to resist her. It hurts to kiss her, because she's pushing me away, she doesn't want me near her. But I want her; I want her so much.

She finally stops fighting me and she responds to the kiss, her lips moving fiercely on mine. I deepen the kiss as I push her against the wall, both of moaning, both of us eager as hell. And all of a sudden, she pushes me away.

She is gasping for breath, her blue eyes flashing dangerously, and she slaps me hard across the face. I don't say anything, my hand automatically rubs my cheek, and I just raise my eyebrows at her.

"This never happened," she says, her voice full of regret, and she leaves. She leaves me all alone once again, and I don't know what to think.

_**The next day**_

I face the waiting crowd, a copy of _Utopia_ in my hands. It's all getting repetitive, reading the same excerpts over and over again. I just want to go back to my hotel room and sleep.

Because I wasn't able to sleep, not after the confrontation with Clare. She seemed so mad, so hurt, and I know that it's because of me. I should acted more mature, we should have talked about the whole Mark thing as rational adults, but that's not us. No, we fight hard, we love hard, and we hurt each other extremely well.

She says she didn't sleep with Fitz, but I don't know who to believe. I mean, the man _cried_, for Chuck's sake, men rarely cry. I just don't know. How am I supposed to survive a month and a half with Clare by my side? Maybe she'll quit. Maybe it will get so unbearable that she'll leave, and she'll come back here to New York and marry Jake, and she will fuck him every night, and they'll have kids...

No, no. I want that with her. I want it so bad. That idiot Jake, with his goofy smile and good manners and nice clothes, he's perfect for her. What am I? Just another fucked-up writer with an unhealthy ego and passion for darkness. She would never choose me, that's why she only used me.

I'm not the kind of guy you fall in love with, because if you do, you burn. Clare knows that. She's a smart girl.

There she is, standing far away with a notebook on her hands, and she looks amazing. She looks tired too, and I wonder if Jake kept her up all night. She's staying with him, after all. I try not to think of Jake's hands all over her body, I try not to think of Clare moaning his name like she moaned mine…. But I can't help it. I can only see them fucking, and it's killing me.

I put the book down, and the crowd just stares. "I will read the excerpt in a moment," I say, and I take a deep breath. "I want to read something new today, I really hope you guys don't mind."

I try not to look at Drew and Adam, because I know they must be panicking, as always. I have this poem in my head, it's been in my head ever since Clare broke my heart, and I press my lips against the microphone.

"_I keep trying to erase you from my dreams. But my mind wasn't made to delete. I try not to speak your name. But your face rains on my memories every day_." I stop, and I look directly at Clare, but she's not looking at me. Her face is crimson red, though, so I know that she's listening.

"_You say you speak the truth, but every single word sounds like a lie. But that's okay, I lied too_." I give the crowd a little smirk and they clap widely, and some girls in the front row start screaming and crying. An overreaction, but it's quite satisfying. I look at the corner where Clare is standing, but she's gone. I feel a knot forming in my throat and I reach for the book, opening it where Adam marked it. It's the same excerpt where I talk about finding a hurricane, and I think of the irony.

Clare is my hurricane, she trapped and mangled me and then spit me out, leaving me in ruins. She left nothing but destruction after her, and I'm still drowning in this sorrow she caused.

"_I had this dream last night, a dream of uncertainty,_" I start, and I momentarily forget about her.

_**Later**_

"You look like shit," I grin and Zane shakes his head.

"I know, but... I'll be okay," he says, looking miserable. "I just get nervous before flying, that's all."

Johnny is standing really close to me, his eyes darting back and forth between Adam and Drew. He's still not saying a word to me, but I would never force him to talk. He's kind of intimidating. I just sigh as I stare at the floor underneath my feet, the familiar floor of the airport doing nothing to help my ever-growing anxiety.

"There she is!" says Drew, pointing at Clare, who is late, as always. She's running over to us, and Jake is closely following her. Her hair is messy, and I wonder if she's late because...

Ugh, I need to stop thinking about them like that.

Jake hands her her carry-on bag and gives her a sad smile, which Clare reciprocates. She stands on her toes and kisses him on the cheek, and I can almost hear the sigh escaping Jake. They exchange words that I can't listen to, and Jake waves at us before walking away, his shoulders slumped.

"Sorry, we had the hardest time finding a cab," explains Clare. "I already checked in my other luggage, I-"

"Yeah, yeah, I don't care," says Drew brusquely. "Just take off your shoes and let's go get screened. You need to be more punctual, Miss Edwards. Punctual."

Clare seems furious but she looks like she's biting back a retort, and she just nods. Drew gives me a triumphant smile and I feel sick. I want to apologize to Clare about Drew's behavior but she's not looking at me. Fine. Fine, just ignore me.

If this is how it's going to be, that's just great.

_**Later **_

"I think New York was quite successful, even if we were only here for a day," says Drew happily, glancing my way. I shrug as I play with my seatbelt, not ready for another flight. At least we're flying first class, and I don't have to worry about sharing a row with random people.

"Why are Johnny, Zane and Clare flying coach?" asks Adam, a cross look on his face. I know he doesn't want to talk about New York, or Fiona. I don't know what happened between them, but he has avoided my questions all day.

"Economics," says Drew simply, grabbing one of the complimentary magazines.

"Drew, I swear to God," says Adam, rubbing his temple with his fingers.

"Calm down, my dear brother," says Drew pompously. "They'll fly first class when we go to Europe, okay?"

"But Zane isn't feeling well," I remind Drew. "Maybe he could use a seat up here."

"He'll be okay," snaps Drew, going back to his magazine.

"Let me check on him before we take off," I say, and I stand up.

Drew grabs my arm and glares at me, his eyes full of warning. "I know what you're going to do," he says, blinking at me.

"You need to plan things better next time then," I say, walking off. I pass the infamous curtain that divides coach and first class, and I look around, searching for familiar faces. A couple of people recognize me and start muttering, but I just start looking for Zane. I finally see the top of his head and I walk quickly to where he's sitting, but a flight attendant stops me.

"Mr. Gold, we're about to take off," she says kindly.

"I know, but I'm exchanging seats with my stylist," I say, smirking at her. That always works. "He's not feeling well, so I hope that you don't mind me doing that."

She's young, and she blushes at me. I look at her nametag and my smirk becomes wider as I wink at her. "That's okay, right, Leia?"

Leia nods and smiles at me, beckoning me to continue walking. I put my hand on Zane's shoulder and he looks at me in surprise.

"Nice of you to join us mortals," he mocks, his face slightly green, and he points at Clare, who's busy reading a book.

I thought Zane would be sitting with Johnny, and then I realize that Johnny is sitting on the back. Fucking Drew, really.

"Um, we're switching seats," I say. "Come on."

Clare stares at me nervously, and she opens her mouth to speak as Zane stands up quickly, looking delighted.

"That's nice of you," he says quickly, and he doesn't hesitate in walking away.

I sit down next to Clare and she starts muttering under her breath, returning her attention to the book. I buckle my seatbelt as the flight attendants start talking, but I'm not listening to a word they're saying.

"What are you reading?" I ask innocently.

"_The Pelican Brief_," she answers shortly.

"Oh, I remember you talking about it, you know? When we used to have these really nice conversations?" I say, my tone full of maliciousness. "I forgot you're a Grisham fangirl."

"Not the time, Eli," she says, moving on to the next page.

"You said that the only Grisham book you hadn't read was _The Pelican Brief_," I continue as the plane starts to move. "So, I'm guessing you just started reading it."

"Yes," she says, her tone as cold as ever.

"Which part are you in?" I ask, trying to distract myself from the vehicle in motion.

"Are you going to shut up?" she asks briskly, finally glaring at me.

"Nope," I sneer, and she sighs exasperatedly.

"Darby is in New Orleans," she says, sounding quite defeated. "She just got rid of… Stump, I think."

"Fascinating," I say, feeling nauseous already. The plane is gaining speed and I can feel my palms start to sweat. "So she hasn't talked to Gray yet?"

"No," says Clare, her eyes on the book.

"You will like that, he's a writer for the _Washington Post_," I say, closing my eyes and covering my mouth with my hands.

"Are you okay?" I hear Clare ask, and I nod.

"Yeah," I lie.

We stay silent for a while, and then I dare to open my eyes, blinking rapidly. I can't afford a panic attack in here, so I reach for the barf bag in front of me. I clutch it tightly, ready to use it in case I start hyperventilating.

"May I ask you a question?" asks Clare after a couple minutes.

"For the profile?" I ask wretchedly.

"No…. about the poem you recited earlier," she says quietly. "I don't want to sound conceited but-"

"Did you sleep with Jake? I mean, have you slept with him since you guys got back together?" I interrupt, not wanting to talk about the poem. "Or you know, did you tell him we kissed last night? How did you say your goodbyes? I'm just wondering, really."

"I've never said this to anyone but… _fuck_ you, Eli," she says, and she stops looking at me. I have never heard her cuss, and this situation is so surreal that I can't help but snort.

"I'm guessing you _have_ fucked him, and you _haven't_ told him about us," I say, trying not to sound too hurt. "Because when we talked at the party, he seemed quite oblivious to the nature of our relationship."

"Eli, just stop it, please," she pleads.

"No, I will not. We have a few hours left, so let's talk." I stare at her, and our eyes meet for a brief moment before she closes her book and puts it away.

"If you must _know,_" she says crossly. "I decided to remain just friends with Jake. And no, we didn't sleep together. Do you want to know why I made that decision?"

Why, yes, I'm dying to know. But I say nothing, I just raise my eyebrows at her.

"Because of you," she says pointedly. "I'm still trying to get over you, and that's not fair to Jake."

"Aw, how nice," I chuckle sardonically, but my heart is going crazy.

"I just don't get it," she says. "You're the one who broke us up, why are you acting like this? And that ridiculous story about Mark Fitzgerald, I just don't know what to do with you."

"I can't believe that you slept with a married man, Clare," I say spitefully. "You're as bad as Imogen."

"Mark is married?" asks Clare, and she looks utterly bewildered.

"Stop pretending," I snap.

"He's not married," states Clare. "Well, at least when I wrote the profile he wasn't. When did he get married?"

I don't answer, because my mind is going through the profile I read, and Clare is kind of right, she never mentions a wife in the article. "He was wearing a wedding band," I say stupidly.

"What do you mean with _he was wearing a wedding band_?" asks Clare. "You… You know him? You've met him?"

I remember my promise to Fitz, and I shake my head. "No, sorry, I mean, I thought I…"

The plane starts shaking and I hold on to my seat, the nausea returning. "Fuck, fuck, what is going on?" I whimper, and Clare stretches her neck to see above the seat in front of her.

"We're currently experiencing some turbulence," says a voice through the speakers. "Please make sure your seatbelts are secured, and don't stand up until-"

"We're going to die," I gasp, and I feel terrified. I don't want to die, not right now, not when I'm in the middle of a fight with Clare…

The plane shakes again and I jump on my seat, and this is too much. I'm feeling terribly anxious, and everything starts spinning around me, and I can't breathe, and my lungs are shutting down, and…

"Eli, look at me." I look straight at Clare as she reaches for my hand, our fingers intertwining. I'm clutching her hand tightly and she winces, but doesn't say a word. I just look at her, trying to catch my breath, and there is nothing but understanding in her eyes.

Maybe… maybe she isn't lying. Maybe she didn't sleep with Fitz, maybe… Oh, I don't know anymore. Fitz seemed so sincere and desperate, though.

"Everything is going to be okay," she says in a patient tone. "I'm holding your hand, everything will be okay."

I swallow hard as I nod, and I just hold on to her hand as if holding on to life. I'm shaking, but she doesn't let go of my hand, and she looks suddenly sad.

"Is that why you broke things up? You think that I slept with Mark because I needed information and… that I did the same thing to you?" she asks sorrowfully.

I can't speak, so I just nod.

"That is… that is just…" she blinks, and tears start rolling down her cheeks as the turbulence stops. She lets go of my hand and searches for her book, and I'm trying to think of something to say.

"Clare…"

"I don't want to talk to you right now," she says, her voice cracking. "I can't believe you would think that I… Just let me read."

"You didn't sleep with him?" I ask hoarsely. "You really didn't sleep with Fitz?"

"Did you push Julia off that building?" she says, her eyes still on the book.

"I-"

"I told you, I'm done talking about this," she says with an air of finality. "I'm done talking about personal things with you, so please, mind your own business while I finish this book, okay?"

I slump in my seat and I close my eyes, feeling more confused than ever, thinking that I must talk to Drew the minute we get to Boston, and I fall asleep.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi.**

**Author's note: Ah, you've been spoiled with daily updates because I'm not sure when I will be able to update next week. Craziness awaits me. Thank you so much for your reviews and support, you guys are the best!**

"_Everything I do is bittersweet, you could tell me secrets that I'll probably repeat. I'm not trying to hurt you, I just love to speak. It feels like we're pulling teeth, so bittersweet. I guess that's how it's gotta be."_

_**Bittersweet, Panic! At The Disco**_

I wake up, a severe headache threatening to kill me or drive me insane. I had to take a nap after that reading at Emerson College, I was so tired. It was weird, all those kids just a few years younger than me looking at me as if I was the best speaker ever. I think I was just being awkward, but whatever, that's done.

We leave Boston tomorrow, but I still need to speak to Drew about the whole Fitz thing. Drew has been running around like crazy, so I haven't had time to talk to him. And then Clare is not talking to me either, she seems furious.

I hit my head repeatedly against the pillow, but it just worsens my headache. What if Clare is being honest with me? She can't be that great of an actress, right?

I reach for my phone and I see that I have a voicemail. Hmm, I rarely get those, but I'm bored and tired and in pain, so maybe it has some good news in it. It's from a number I don't recognize, so it might be a telemarketer for all I know. Maybe they're trying to sell me a ticket out of this fucking mess, awesome, where do I sign?

"_Eli, hi... Um, you probably don't remember me... You should remember me, but I don't know, you left all your past behind... so yeah. This is Vince, Julia's father._"

I almost drop the phone at the sound of the man's voice, and I can feel my throat closing. I haven't talked to Vince since the funeral, where he was kind enough to punch me in the face and blame me for his daughter's death. I know that Julia's dad and his wife moved to Vancouver, I think, and I never heard from them again.

Hello, past. It's nice to see that you want to catch up.

"_Don't ask me how I got your number, it doesn't matter. I just wanted to let you know that two journalists were here yesterday, asking questions about you. I didn't talk to them, but my wife did. Let's just say she didn't have the nicest things to say about you. Just be grateful that I interrupted the conversation when I realized what was going on... I don't even know why I'm calling you, but I guess part of me feels bad for you. You've been trying to escape what you did and now it's coming up again, and I'm a decent man, so I thought I should warn you. Yeah, that's all. And... I just wanted to tell you that I think I believe you. Yeah. Um. Goodbye. Don't call back."_

I just sit on my bed, looking at the phone, and my headache threatens to become a migraine. I need to talk to Drew, and fast.

_**Later**_

Drew opens the door, his tie undone and his hair a bit messy, and he tilts his head to beckon me to come in. He walks away from me and sits at the desk in his room, sorting through mountains and mountains of paperwork.

I feel bad for him sometimes, it must be a really stressful job, and I'm not his only client. Just the most important one.

"Drew, I got a call- well, a voicemail today," I say, and I hand him my phone. He grabs it impatiently and listens to the recording, a vein in his forehead becoming more and more pronounced with every passing second.

He sighs and hands me the phone, and he shakes his head as he reads some of the documents in front of him. "Sinclair and Nash, I suppose," he says without looking up.

"Probably," I nod. "Should we do something about this?"

"I'll take care of it," he says tiredly. "I always do, don't I? You'll be okay, man."

I feel like he's taking this lightly, but if he's not too worried, maybe I shouldn't be either. I try not to think about Julia's dad, about how he said that he _thinks _he believes me. I should feel relieved, but I just feel heavier, as if I'm reliving that year.

"Hey, I know you're busy, but I have something to tell you," I say, trying to distract myself.

"Go ahead," says Drew, signing some papers.

"You know the whole thing with Clare... what she did..." I start, and he's still not looking at me. This is starting to irritate me, but I continue talking.

"Fitz wasn't married," I deadpan, and Drew looks up from his paperwork, absolutely calm.

"Excuse me?" he asks, his expression unreadable.

"Mark Fitzgerald wasn't married at the time when he allegedly slept with Clare," I say.

"He wasn't? How did you figure that out?" asks Drew, looking concerned.

"It doesn't matter," I say dismissively. "He lied to us."

"Well, Clare still slept with him, so..." Drew gives me a smile and continues to sort through contracts and other papers.

"She says she didn't," I continue. "I confronted her about it and she said she didn't."

Drew tenses in his seat but only shakes his head, as if thinking of what to say.

"Of course she said that," says Drew finally. "You know, I'm just looking out for you. I've been looking out for you ever since Julia died, but you never listen. I don't want you to get hurt."

I study him, and I can't help but trust him a little. He's right, I still remember how he approached me a week after Julia's death, looking completely devastated. He told me that night that although I was more of a friend to Adam, he wanted to offer his friendship to me. That he understood my pain somehow, and that he wanted to look out for me. I was very confused that night, but Drew became my friend after that.

"But what if Fitz lied?" I insist, and Drew slams his hands on the desk.

"Goddamn it, Eli, I have no time for this!" he yells. "You say you're a cynic, but you're so fucking naïve! You haven't changed at all, you're still the same arrogant idiot you were in high school!"

I step back, surprised at Drew's sudden anger.

"Go ahead and date that fucking journalist whore," he says coldly. "Be my guest. Ruin your fucking career, tell her about Julia, let all of this get published, and hopefully, hopefully people will hate your fucking guts."

"Don't you dare call Clare that, watch your mouth," I retort angrily. "What is your fucking problem?"

"You! You're my fucking problem, you've always been," says Drew, and then he takes a deep breath. He seems to come back to normal, because he's giving me one of his fake, forced smiles and he seems apologetic.

"Sorry. Sorry, man, I'm just really stressed out," he says calmly. "Bianca is getting impatient, she wants kids and all, and she keeps calling me and..."

"That's not my fault," I say bitterly. "You don't have to take our your goddamn frustrations on me. I'm still your boss, after all. I can fucking fire you right now, you know."

"Sorry, really," says Drew, looking sheepish. "I... I was out of place. But trust me when I tell you that I just want what's best for you... I just... Sorry, man."

He's all smiles, but I can't help but see him in a completely different light.

_**Later**_

I need a drink. I wish Adam would join me, but he's still avoiding everyone, and I know it's Fiona's fault. I just need to get drunk and forget that this day happened. Maybe I'll meet a girl with curly hair and blue eyes, and maybe she will help me forget.

I'm walking fast, but not fast enough, because I see the only girl that I want to be with sitting all alone in one of the luxurious sitting areas. She's typing fast on her computer, and every now and then she stops and stares into nothing, her expression vacant.

"Clare," I say, approaching her, and she closes her laptop at once.

"Eli," she responds politely, but I don't want her to treat me like this. I want her to smile when she says my name, I want _us_ back.

"I need to talk to you," I say, but she's standing up already.

"We'll talk tomorrow, I need to ask you some questions for the profile," she says, and walks away. No, you're not leaving me, I'm not letting you.

I walk after her and I grab her arm gently, and she turns to look at me. "Eli, please, I'm really tired. I interviewed a dozen students at Emerson and I'm just exhausted."

I notice that we're standing right in front of a janitor's closet and I don't think twice; I pull her in, ignoring her feeble protests, and I close the door after us.

"Stop avoiding me," I plead.

"You're the one who... Oh, I'm not going through this again," she sighs. "Do you want me to quit? I'll quit. They'll send another writer, and-"

"I don't want another writer, I want you."

Her blue eyes look at me with sadness, and she looks like she's about to cry. "Why are you doing this to me?" she whispers, and I move closer to her. She holds her laptop close to her chest as a shield, as if trying to protect herself from me.

"I don't know," I say honestly. "All I know is that when I'm around you... all I can think about is getting you to kiss me."

My lips are hovering over hers, but her eyes are wide open, and I realize that they're filled with fear. I'm tired of this bickering, I don't want to fight with her, and if she says she didn't sleep with Fitz, I believe her. Even if she's lying to me, ignorance is bliss, and I'd rather have her than not have her at all.

"No," she whispers, pulling away. "I can't. You ended this, and you... you're just playing with me. I have to go."

She sounds truly sorry and she walks out of the janitor's closet, and I punch the door in frustration. Ouch, okay, bad idea. My knuckles are quickly swelling up and I curse at myself for being such an idiot.

After a few minutes I decide to step out, just to face a very amused-looking Zane. "Did you guys make up?" he asks cheerfully. "Or are you just finally embracing your true sexuality?"

"Aha, hilarious," I mutter, and I start to walk away but then I realize something. "So, you know about me and Clare...?"

Zane starts laughing as he approaches me, and pats me on the back. "Oh, Elliot, of course I know," he says. "We all do. I mean, I don't know why you guys split, but..."

He just shrugs, and I sigh sadly. "Long story... what are you up to right now?"

"Besides stalking my boss and having an unhealthy interest in his personal life?" mocks Zane. "I was about to go up to my room and do nothing. Why?"

"There's a pub nearby, and I need a drink so bad," I say with a side smile.

"Hey, you're the boss," smiles Zane, and we walk down the hallway, but I'm still thinking of Clare.

_**Later**_

"How long have you been dating Riley?" I ask Zane as I put down my fourth (fifth?) glass.

"Ten years," he says with a smile.

"That's a shitload of time," I say loudly, and the bartender shots me a mean look.

"Sorry... man, what's your name?" I say, squinting my eyes as I look at his nametag. "Spinner? What kind of name is that?"

"A nickname," says Spinner brusquely. "And watch your volume."

"Why do you have a Canadian flag on the wall?" asks Zane, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm a Canadian boy," says Spinner, his face more relaxed.

"So are we!" I say excitedly. "What are you doing over here?"

"My wife, Jane, applied to Emerson a few years ago and we moved here," he grins. "I opened this bar and here we are, you know."

"Boo, traitor," chuckles Zane, and Spinner just shakes his head and walks away.

"Oh, Canada," I sing horribly and Zane starts laughing uncontrollably. "No, but seriously, how have you managed to be with Riley for so long?"

Zane finishes his drink and smiles to himself, and I'm guessing he's thinking about the man he left back home. How nice, to have someone waiting for you. I had that, briefly, and I lost it. I lost Clare.

"We're not the perfect couple. We fight, we argue, but it's how we manage our fights, how we sort them out, that makes the difference. That's how we make it work." He makes a gesture toward a female bartender, and another drink is placed in front of him.

"I love her, Zane," I slur miserably. "I. Love. Her."

"She completes you?" mocks Zane, taking a drink.

"She had me at hello!" I say hysterically, and we both burst out laughing. "But she slept with Mark Fitzgerald, I think, and I..."

"That name sounds familiar," says Zane. "Hmmm... Mark Fitzgerald..."

"Call me Fitz!" I exclaim, the alcohol getting the best of me.

"Fitz!" yells Zane, and people turn to look at us. "Elliot, are you talking about Fitzy boy? The dude who owns a community theater in Missi- Missau- Fuck, I can't talk."

"Yeah," I say, wiping the sweat off my forehead. "Do you know him? Wow, well, he's a fucking popular guy, that Fitz dude."

Zane is looking curiously at me, his eyes clouded by his drunkenness, and he shakes his head at me. "There is no way in hell that Clare slept with that guy, Elliot."

"You sound confident," I mumble, leaning my head on the counter, ready to sleep.

"This is not a daycare center!" yells the bartender, I already forgot his name. "No nap times in here."

"Well," whispers Zane, moving closer to me. Our faces are very close, and I can smell the alcohol in my stylist's breath. "Fitz wouldn't be interested in someone like Clare, if you know what I mean."

"Stop being so fucking cryptic," I mutter back, and I focus on Zane's smiling lips.

"I hate Fitz, everybody in the LGBT community hates that little hypocrite," he sneers. "He found God, he says. Chastity is the way to go, he says. Fuck him and his preachings. And that theater he runs, well, it's going downhill because he refuses to hire gay actors. But we all know the truth about him."

"This information is so fucking compelling, but why the fuck is this relevant," I smirk, my eyelids starting to close. Zane gives me a look full of pity, and he chuckles softly.

"Elliot, Clare didn't sleep with him. There is no way. Fitz is one of the worst closet cases ever. I mean... Mark Fitzgerald is totally, absolutely, a hundred percent gay."

_**Later**_

I sobered up enough for this; I don't want alcohol affecting my behavior right now. I still stumble a little as I walk out of the elevator, but I manage to keep my balance. I walk fast, I have no time to waste, I already wasted a lot being an insecure idiot.

I find her room and I start knocking frantically on the door. I'm terrified because she has all the right to send me to hell, to not accept my apology, to turn me down. I wouldn't blame her.

She opens the door and she looks annoyed at my presence, but I stand up straight and look directly into her eyes.

"What?" she says briskly. She's just wearing shorts and a tank top, and god, it suits her. She could wear a trash bag and she would still look amazing.

"I'm sorry," I say quickly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not believing you. You believed me when I told you about Julia and I... I didn't believe you. Clare, I'm so fucking sorry, you have no idea."

She doesn't say a word, but continues to looks at me.

"Mark is gay," I say and she blushes, looking away. "I know that now. But I shouldn't have waited to find that out, I should have believed _you. _And I'm sorry."

"How did you find out about Mark?" she asks curiously. "I promised him not to tell anyone, and I haven't, so..."

"It doesn't matter," I say as I shake my head. "Point is, I should have trusted you. I feel like an idiot for not doing so."

"Yes, you should have trusted me," she says bitterly. "But you don't trust people, and although that works sometimes, it doesn't work all the time. You hurt me, Eli."

"I know," I say, nodding guiltily. "But I was heartbroken, and I do stupid things when I'm hurting."

We both look at each other and I know that we're thinking about the same thing. What I did to Julia. I'm just a pro at hurting the people I love.

"Well, thanks for apologizing," she says, her tone cold.

We continue to look at each other, silent, and I know that I've lost her. Serves me right for being the way I am, for being such an asshole to her. It's too late to tell her how much I love her.

I mumble a half-assed goodbye and I start walking away, my heart heavy with sorrow, and I know that I have to talk to Drew about this new development. Fitz fooled us both, and I wonder what my agent will have to say about this. No doubt that he will be disappointed that Clare is not the shady character he thought she was.

But why did Fitz lie? He had no motives to say such things about Clare, did he? Unless... I keep thinking of Ellie Nash and Holly J Sinclair, about Julia's dad's voicemail, and I don't know. Maybe there is some sort of conspiracy against me, maybe people want to see me suffer for what I've done.

"Eli, wait."

I turn around and Clare is running toward me, her bare feet not making a sound on the thick carpet. She stops right in front of me, her cheeks red, and I feel so drained. I'm just waiting for her to say something, anything, whatever.

I'm waiting.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi.**

**Author's note: Sorry for the delay. Hopefully this will be worth it! **

"_Sugarcane in the easy morning, weathervanes my one and lonely."_

_**Northern Downpour, Panic! At The Disco. **_

I'm waiting.

She's holding her breath, and so am I, waiting for what she has to say. Do it quick, Edwards. Spare me the pain of saying goodbye.

"I can't do this anymore," she says, her voice barely a whisper.

A knot in my throat, a blade in my heart, and everything dies. Oh, so this is it. This is definitely over.

"Okay, I'll just go now," I say, starting to turn around to leave, but she grabs my hand. I look at her, feeling how my heart is breaking in a hundred million pieces, knowing that I screwed things up.

"No, I meant… I can't be without you anymore," she whispers, and I lose control of myself. My arms wrap around Clare and I kiss her, and damn, she's not pushing me away this time, she actually wants this.

A couple people pass us by, muttering and staring as our kissing gets more and more intense, but fuck them. I could care less.

I'm probably dreaming, but that's okay. It's an amazing dream. We keep kissing, and I'm aware that she's dragging me back to her room, and I'm just following her like a lost lamb, like she's my anchor. Well, she is. She's always been.

I don't know how we ended up on her bed, but I'm not complaining. I slide my hand under her tank top, touching her warm skin, and I try not to break down. I'm touching her again, she's letting me touch her, and I feel like dying.

"Clare, _Clare_, I've missed you so much," I mutter against her lips, and she pulls me in for a kiss, our breaths mixing at once. My tongue teases her lips as I unhook the back of her bra, eager to touch more of her. She's not pushing me away, and that thrills me. I remove her top, and then her bra, and I just look at her. She's blushing, but her cheeks are also wet, and I stop.

"What's wrong?" I ask fearfully. Is she about to change her mind?

"I... I've missed you too," she chokes, and I kiss her gently, taking my time. I need to tell her.

"I love you," I breathe and she smiles at me.

"I love you too, even though you're crazy," she teases, but my heart can't handle it. She does love me, oh god, she does.

"You think too highly of yourself, Edwards," I grin, causing her to give me a crooked smile. I kiss her again, this time in a more urgent manner, and my hand is all over her breasts, and I go from tender to rough and back to tender, and her moans bring back memories of the nights we've had.

"I'm yours, Clare," I say, my lips close to her ear. "I just wanted to let you know that."

"Do you mean it?" she asks nervously, and I suck on her earlobe, making her arch her back.

"Yes... of course," I whisper, and my lips brush against her cheek, my nose pressed against her skin. I love her so much, and she's the only one I want to be with. I don't ever want to be without her again.

"We still need to talk," she reminds me as I tug on her shorts. "Figure things out."

"We'll have time," I mutter as she starts pulling on my tie. She undoes the knot slowly, teasing me, and I run my fingers all over her legs. "Stop."

"Sorry?" she asks, sounding confused. I just smirk at her and I press my lips against a spot on her chest, and she holds her breath. I place small kisses on her stomach as I move lower, my tongue tracing lines on her skin.

"Do you remember... _that_ morning?" I mutter as my lips reach the fabric of her underwear.

"Yes... I- I do," she stammers, and I start removing her panties, shaking slightly when I finally see her completely exposed to me.

"I've been reliving that morning over and over again," I confess, and I start going down on her. I'm being aggressive, but she doesn't seem to mind, because she keeps gasping and moaning, so I move my tongue faster and faster.

Fuck, I did miss her, I missed this so much. Every little sounds she makes completes me, and I love her taste, her body, everything about her. Everything.

"Eli... Eli, slow down..." she gasps, but I ignore her, because I know she's about to lose it, so I keep going.

She lets out a little gasp when she comes, and I place a kiss on the inside of her thigh as her orgasm dies down. I wipe my lips with my sleeve and I move closer to her, kissing her on the neck, and finally on the lips. She kisses me unapologetically, and it turns me on that she doesn't mind tasting herself on my lips.

Clare's fingers move to my shirt and she unbuttons it hurriedly, and I continue to kiss her. Then her hands move to my belt buckle and she has a difficult time undoing it, but after a few seconds, she manages. She cups me through my jeans and I involuntary grind on her hand and she giggles.

"Stop teasing me," I mutter, sucking on her lower lip.

She continues to giggle and the sound causes me to kiss her harder. Her tongue is battling mine, and I can't breathe. It doesn't take long for me to get completely naked, but instead of moving forward, I just wrap my arms around her, and we kiss fiercely, rolling around on the bed. We're both laughing; we're leaving behind the horrible weeks we spent apart. I'm not watching our movements and suddenly...

"Ouch," I groan when we fall off the bed and Clare lands on top of me.

"Are you okay?" she asks, and tries to move away but I keep my arms around her.

"An accident was bound to happen, knowing us," I chuckle, and I kiss her. She kisses me back and I flip us over, I want to be on top of her, I want to look at her in the eye. Her back is pressed against the carpet and my body is pressed against hers, and I know that I can't wait any longer.

"I have to..." I say awkwardly as I motion toward my forgotten clothes.

"Do you carry a condom around everywhere you go?" she asks, an amused smile on her face.

"Well, yes," I say, trying to forget about the girl I slept with a few days ago. She's the only girl I fucked during my "break" with Clare, and that was a horrible mistake.

"How convenient," she says, and she lets go of me. I reach for my jeans and I look into my wallet, pulling out a condom almost immediately.

"To be honest, I just put it here this morning," I explain halfheartedly.

"You don't have to explain," she says, sitting up. "Your hands are shaking."

"You make me nervous," I admit. So nervous.

"Okay, hold on then," she says, taking the condom away from me. "Move closer."

"Clare, I'm quite capable of-" I start, but she's fast, and she's already- Oh, okay, Eli calm down. It would be embarrassing if you come on her hands when she's putting a condom on you. I close my eyes and she finishes, and I hear her giggle again.

"Do you do this a lot?" I say sarcastically, lunging myself at her and pinning her down to the floor. "Helping guys with shaky hands?"

"I've only done it once, and yes, he had shaky hands," she says, smiling. "My first. He was a wreck the night we first… Anyway, I guess those banana lessons in high school paid off."

"I'm going to pretend that you didn't say that, and I'm going to kiss you," I say, winking at her. She just nods submissively and I attack her lips zealously, almost bruising them. We get intense again fast, and I can feel my body protesting for waiting so long, and I push into her.

It feels better than I remembered, and I bite her lower lip as I try to regain control. I'm thrusting into her aggressively, and I can almost hear how her skin is brushing the carpet, but I can't stop. I keep kissing her, moaning into her mouth, and her fingers are holding on to my hips as her legs wrap around me.

How did I manage to survive without her? Why did I even end things with her? I can be so stupid sometimes.

I can't hold myself back anymore, so I let go, and I kiss her neck, gasping, and I just mutter her name over and over again. We lay on the floor for a while, and she just holds me, saying nothing. I don't mind the silence, not with her.

Yes, we have to talk, but... I just want to be like this with her, for now.

"What are you going to tell Drew?" she asks suddenly. "He hates me."

"He will have to live with it," I say calmly. "I want to be with you, so it's none of his business, really."

"You really... do you really want to be with me?" she asks quietly.

"Of course," I say, and I kiss a spot on her jaw. "Only with you. No one else."

"Does this mean I get to boss you around?" she jokes, and I press my lips against hers.

I look at her and I finally see the love in her eyes, and how sincere she is. I can't believe I doubted her.

"Why not?" I smile. "Just twist my rubber arm... _girlfriend_."

"_Girlfriend_," she repeats as her cheeks turn red. "That sounds so nice."

A smile I had never seen is on her lips, and she kisses me.

**_The next day_**

"I still can't believe Mark did that," says Clare, shaking her head as we step into the elevator. I told her everything that happened with Fitz, and she became more and more shocked with every word that came out of my mouth.

"Drew said Fitz was desperate to talk to me," I shrug as the doors close, and I lean my back against the wall as Clare pushes the button. "But I can't figure out his motives."

"Me neither," sighs Clare. "If someone asked him to do this, I mean, that person obviously knew about us. I know… I know your crew knows. But who else? Maybe we haven't been discreet enough."

"Obviously not," I tease as I pull her closer to me. She puts her arms around me and I do the same, kissing her gently as the elevator stops at some random floor. An old couple walks in and Clare tried to move away, but I don't let go of her.

"Eli, people," she mutters, and I kiss her forehead.

"So?" I retort, and I turn to look at the old couple with a smirk on my face. "Hey, do you guys mind if I kiss my girlfriend?"

The old lady smiles at us as the man shakes his head. "As long as there's no baby-making," the man chuckles, and Clare giggles nervously.

"Thanks," I nod and then I give Clare a quick kiss on the lips. "See? They don't mind."

"You're terrible," she mumbles happily as I kiss her again.

We reach the first floor and the old couple gives us a smile before exiting, and we walk out right after them. Clare is walking in front of me but I take her hand in mine, and she gives me a weird look.

"Eli," she says somewhat sternly.

"Clare, it's our last day in Boston," I protest. "Who cares? Come on."

She considers me for a moment and just squeezes my hand, a mischievous smile on her face. "All right," she grins, and we walk over to the hotel's restaurant, where the rest of them are already eating breakfast.

We're holding hands as we approach the table, and I see Drew turn green at the sight of us. I sit down next to Clare and the server walks over to us and takes our order, and I can feel Johnny, Adam and Zane staring at us. I glance at Zane and he has a knowing smile on his face, and he nods at me.

"Pancakes, huh," I say calmly after the server leaves. "I should have ordered that."

"You ordered waffles," smiles Clare. "Same thing just... less delicious!"

"Haha," I say dryly and Clare winks at me.

"You can steal some of my pancakes," she whispers and I lean in closer.

"I just might," I say quietly, and I give her a small peck on the lips. She blushes and I just turn to face the rest of the table, and the look on Drew's face is priceless.

"Well, is there something we need to know?" says Drew, clearing his throat. Adam has a snarky smile on his lips, and he looks happy for the first time in days. Johnny's lips are also curving into a grin, something I have never seen before.

"Not much, um..." I just smirk widely and shrug. "Clare is my girlfriend now, no big deal."

"Oh, really?" chuckles Adam. "Color me shocked! I didn't even know you guys had something going on."

"Please," snorts Clare as the server places a glass of orange juice in front of her.

"This is very interesting," says Drew uncomfortably. "Seriously, I'm really intrigued. When did you guys decide this?"

"Last night," I say nonchalantly.

"That is just great," says Drew through a fake smile. "Eli, can I talk to you for a second?"

"I'm waiting for my waffles," I drawl.

"Now," says Drew in that eerie voice he uses when he's extremely pissed off.

"Fine," I sigh and I turn to look at Clare. "I must leave you."

"But you will come back, right?" she asks, almost laughing.

"Perhaps," I say, and give her a kiss on the cheek.

I stand up and follow Drew out of the restaurant, and I can almost feel the fury running in his veins. "After what she... After what she did to you, you just ignored my warnings, didn't you?" he spits.

"Yes, pretty much, yes," I snort and he looks like he's about to punch me. "Drew, calm down. She didn't sleep with Fitz."

"You're an idiot," he says, his arms crossed. "You believed her?"

"Fitz is gay," I say simply, and I didn't expect this reaction from Drew. He looks mortified, the color in his face is gone, and he is gaping at me soundlessly.

"Wh- what? How did you- I mean, he's gay?" he blurts in disbelief. "Whoa. I didn't expect that."

"Neither did I, but he is," I shrug. "And I found out from someone else, not Clare, so I know she's not lying. Drew, I think that someone sent him. Someone found out about Clare and me and... I don't know. Maybe I'm being paranoid."

"Maybe her ex-boyfriend," mutters Drew, looking pensive. "Or those journalists that are sniffing around. I need to fix this."

"Don't stress too much, Drew," I say sympathetically.

He looks at me and I see a flash of anger in his eyes but it's gone almost immediately. "Yeah, I'll try," he chuckles at last. "So… you and Clare, it's official, huh?"

I just shrug and Drew nods along, as if trying to get used to the idea. "Okay, well, just keep it on the downlow until after the profile comes out," says Drew, rubbing his forehead. "Same rules apply. And watch it with the PDA, keep it in your hotel room… she's staying in the same room now?"

"I suppose," I say casually.

"Okay, I'll have to arrange that," says Drew, letting out a heavy sigh. "We'll be fine. You'll be fine. Everything is going to be okay."

He seems to be talking to himself more than talking to me, so I keep quiet. I feel awkward just standing there, but Drew walks over to me and gives me a hug, so I clumsily hug him back.

"Sorry, man, sorry for not trusting Clare," he says, and he sounds sincere. "I'm gonna find out who's behind this, okay?"

"Sounds great," I say as Drew lets go, and he gives me a huge smile.

"You need to eat before we leave," he says, grabbing me by the arm. "Dallas, here we come!"

_**Later**_

"Where the fuck are we, Drew?" I ask as we stand in the middle of the lobby, people running around with raincoats and umbrellas. My hair is soaked and water is dripping from my clothes, and Adam looks at me uncomfortably. He knows I hate rain.

"Welcome to Dallas," says Drew bitterly, glancing at his watch. "At least our driver was fast, that airport was ridiculously complicated."

"I've never seen this amount of rain," says Zane miserably. "Okay, I have, but this is really sucky weather."

"Actually, according to that TV screen," says Johnny, pointing at a panel of screens above us. "We're under a tornado watch."

"I've always wanted to die in a foreign country," I say sarcastically and Clare links her arm around mine. I look at her and she brushes my bangs off my forehead with her hand, her eyes twinkling with understanding.

"Calm down, we'll be okay," she smiles and I feel immediately calm.

"I need to go get our keys," says Drew as he walks away. I look over at Adam, who is fumbling with the zipper of his jacket as he stares at me and Clare, a smile on his face.

"That's cute," he says, pointing at our linked arms.

"Cute?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow at him. "I don't want to ever, ever be defined by the word cute."

"Well, Clare's cute," mocks Adam, and Clare starts laughing.

"She sure is," winks Zane, and Johnny merely chuckles dryly.

"Are you guys hitting on my girlfriend?" I ask, mockingly hurt. We all laugh as Drew comes back, and he gives us a confused stare.

"Okay, Zane and Johnny get their own room now, since Clare is staying with Eli," rambles Drew, handing me the key. "We need to be discreet, so I still have a room under Clare's name. I swear, you two are going to kill me."

Drew smiles at Clare, who seems taken aback by Drew's kindness. "Thanks, man," I say, grabbing the key and pocketing it. "Um, so nothing to do tonight, correct?"

Drew finishes handing out the keys and nods, and I have never seen him look so exhausted in my life. I feel kind of guilty, because I know that he's trying to figure out what's going on with Sinclair and Nash. "You have a free night, but with this weather I'd rather have you stay in," he says quickly.

"No problem," I smile as I look at Clare, and I know that we're both not interested in being somewhere else.

_**Later**_

"You're terrible at poker, Edwards," I taunt, and Clare places all of her cards on the mattress, looking frustrated. We're both wearing our pajamas and I'm attempting to let Clare win, but it's impossible. This girl is not great at hiding her emotions.

"I give up," she sighs, pushing the cards away. It's still raining outside, and the rain is pounding against the window, the thunder giving me the chills. I really hope we don't die here.

"Come here," I say, and Clare gives me a smile as she crawls over to me, a knowing smile on her lips. She straddles me and kisses me slowly, her hands cupping my face.

"It's not fair," I say as she pulls away.

"What isn't?" she asks, giving me a curious look.

"You know all these things about me… and I barely know things about you," I say as my hands slide under the back of her shirt. Her skin is so soft and I feel like having sex with her right now, but I really want her to answer my question.

"I'm not a very interesting person," she says, biting her lower lip.

"Try me," I say, my fingers tracing lines on her lower back.

She breathes deeply and smiles weakly at me as she looks into my eyes. "My name is Clare Diana Edwards. I was born and raised in Toronto, the youngest of two. I got nothing but straight As in school, I'm Christian, I've always liked writing. My sister moved to Kenya when I was thirteen, my parents got divorced when I was fifteen… Um, I majored in journalism, and here I am."

"Whoa, hold on, why did your sister move to Kenya?" I ask.

"Volunteering, you know," she says with a pained look on her face. "She's still there, I haven't seen her in years. She got married and has two kids now. I've only seen pictures."

"That sucks," I say as I remove my hands from her back and I place them on her hips. "You seem sad about it."

"She was my best friend," mumbles Clare. "We lost that connection somehow… and then my parents got divorced and it was a mess."

There are tears on her eyes but I don't know what to say. I just lean in to give her a kiss and she responds to it sweetly, her little sigh dying in my mouth.

"Maybe we can go visit her someday," I say when we stop kissing.

"Ha, sure," she mocks, and the sadness in her eyes is gone.

"No, really, why not?" I insist. "I've never been to Kenya… it will be fun."

"Fun," says Clare. "Well, we'll see."

"Of course, I would have to meet your parents first…" I trail off. "Are they nice?"

"My dad is," she chuckles. "My mom… you will have to meet her and find out."

"In other words, your mom will hate me," I sigh mockingly.

"Aw, no," says Clare, kissing me on the cheek. "I don't think she would. You're a smart guy, and you're a writer, and… No, not going to lie, she'll probably hate you. What about your parents? Do you talk to them often?"

"No," I say guiltily. "I've been so intent in keeping my past at bay that I've neglected them."

"You should give them a call… or we can go visit them," she says tentatively, and I just look at her. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I know that CeCe and Bullfrog will love her, of course.

"Hey, we're talking about me again," I say scornfully. "I want to talk about you."

"What else do you need to know?" she asks as she runs her fingers through my hair.

"Boyfriends," I say quickly and Clare raises her eyebrows at me, giggling.

"Really, Goldsworthy?" she pouts.

"Really, Edwards."

She clears her throat and I smirk amusedly as she gives me a seductive look, as if she's about to tell me a dirty secret. "My first boyfriend was K.C Guthrie…"

"K.C? What a dumb name," I blurt, and Clare ignores me.

"He was a really nice guy when we first started dating… I was so innocent, you have no idea," she blushes. "Then my parents' divorce happened, and there was so much drama in my life… I felt that K.C was slipping away from me."

She looks sad again, and I hate myself for making her go through this. "I made a vow when I was younger… a purity vow. You know, no sex until marriage. In my desperate attempt to keep K.C with me, I…" Her voice breaks, but she looks strong. "I slept with him. I gave him everything and the next thing he did was break up with me and he left me for a more experienced girl. It shouldn't be a shock to you when I say that the rest of high school was utter hell."

"Wow, Clare, I'm so sorry," I say breathlessly.

"It happened, and although it was a mistake, I'm okay with it now," she says wisely. "I didn't date again until I went to college, and those weren't serious dates. I mean, a couple dates and I would find an excuse to stop going out. I didn't sleep with any of those guys, of course not. I got my internship at Dixon during my third year and that consumed most of my free time. I had no time to date. Then one day I went to a journalism convention and I met Jake. He was working for a small paper in Ottawa at the time and we hit it off right away. We had similar backgrounds, beliefs… he seemed to be the perfect guy for me. But he wasn't."

"Why not?" I ask, trying not to sound too hurt at Clare's words. I'm not the perfect guy for her, we're so different.

"We never felt… _passionate_ about each other," she explains. "We felt comfortable with each other but that was the extent of our love. We settled, we were in a rut. We weren't happy, no… Not at all."

"Why did you guys break up?"

"We just grew apart," she shrugs. "We were together for a few years and we just got bored, I suppose. He got offered that job at the _Wall Street Journal_ and he asked me if I wanted to move to New York with him. I said that maybe we should reconsider our relationship and he was okay with that. So we went on a break. A few days after he left, I got a call from Wesley, and he told me that one of our staff writers wasn't going to be able to write a certain profile. Wesley told me it would require traveling and dealing with a moody, arrogant writer…"

She smiles at me and I smile back, feeling all warm inside.

"That night, when we almost kissed," she continues. "I was so nervous. I thought to myself, 'this isn't who I am, flirting with someone I'm supposed to write about.' But the truth is, I didn't know who I was, I was still trying to figure that out. And I told myself to go for it, to risk it all, so I did."

"Why were you crying when you found out that Jake sent a box to your apartment?" I ask, admiring the way Clare's lips tremble when she's about to speak.

"Because it was suddenly final," she says. "It wasn't so much about the break up, but more about letting go. I was stepping out of my comfort zone, and when I accepted your invitation to go out, I knew that I couldn't look back. And honestly, Eli, you've brought out a side of me I didn't know I had… a rebellious, reckless side. The things I've been through with you and the things we've done… I never thought I would do something like that."

"Like giving a handjob in a bathroom?" I joke, and she tugs on my hair.

"Don't be silly," she snaps playfully, but her cheeks are red. "But yes, things like that. You just make me feel so comfortable with myself, although you also make me nervous. I don't know."

We look at each other and I graze her hips with my thumbs as I take in everything she just said. In a way, we both changed each other's lives without being truly aware of it.

"So, I'm the third boyfriend," I muse.

"I guess you are," she says pleasantly.

"Maybe I'll be the last," I mumble before I can stop myself. Damn it. But she seems okay with that, because she's still looking at me and she's not moving.

"Maybe," she smiles broadly, and I can feel my heart racing as she leans in for a kiss. We kiss for a while, and I breathe in when I listen to the sound of our lips slowly separating. I pull her closer to me as she continues to smile, her eyes filled with elation. That's just how I feel right now.

"If it's any consolation, you've also brought out a side of me that I wasn't aware of," I confess.

"Really?" she asks in surprise.

"I stopped thinking about a love a while ago, ever since Julia died," I say almost inaudibly. "But you… you just walked into my life and broke me down. I fought against it but it was useless. I can't believe I'm capable of feeling this much."

"Oh, Eli," she says and kisses me again. "I'm honestly scared."

"Why?" I ask fearfully, my heart stopping briefly.

"That you'll find me boring," she says, her voice thin. "You have this really exciting life and I'm just a random journalist who lives in a crappy apartment and has no social life whatsoever and-"

"Hey," I interrupt, and Clare stops ranting. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Are you sure?" she asks, and it hits me. People have left her, one way or another. Her sister left, her parents divorced, that douche cheated on her, and Jake… It makes sense.

"You're stuck with me," I smirk. "We're a Velvet Underground song."

She starts laughing as I hug her and she hugs me back, and this moment is precious. I have never loved anyone like I love her, and as scary as it is, I'm ready.

"It stopped raining," notes Clare, still holding on to me.

"Do you want to go outside?" I ask halfheartedly.

She pulls back and she shakes her head, running a finger over my lips. "No, I just want to be here with you."

And for the first time in my life, I feel completely happy.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi.**

**Author's note: Well, all of you are just so fucking amazing! Thanks for the reviews, comments, etc. Thank you so much! I hope you're ready for this chapter, muahaha. **

_"Sheepish wolves, looking lived-in, eating buttons. Wink, just don't put your teeth on me."_

_**She's A Handsome Woman, Panic! At The Disco ** _

"Eli."

"No."

"You're going to be late for the press conference."

"So?"

I kiss her on the lips while she cuddles against me, and I love the sensation of her nose pressed against mine. I breathe in her scent, which is probably the most wonderful scent in the world, and I don't want to let go of her.

"I have an hour left," I mumble.

"You're already dressed," she points out, and I steal another kiss. We're on the bed, the sheets a tangled mess underneath us, the only witnesses of what happened last night. Everything seems so perfect, though, I keep waiting for something bad to happen.

And my phone just started ringing. Great timing.

"Must be Drew," I sigh sadly as I let go of Clare and reach for the phone on the nightstand. I swear, that man will murder me if I'm a minute late, he's-

It's a number I don't recognize, and I wonder if it's Julia's dad again. I have no time for this, but I answer the phone anyway as I give Clare an exasperated look.

"Hello?" I ask coldly.

"You answered. I thought you wouldn't."

"Oh." It's Imogen. I deleted her number when she "broke up" with me, and I never knew it by heart. I try to remain composed in front of Clare as I think of what to say.

"Yeah, well, what do you want?"

"I need to... warn you. About something." She sounds like she's hiding somewhere, her tone reeks of conspiracy, so I just wait. "Two reporters came to my apartment today, to ask questions about you. I answered every single one of their questions."

Fuck, Nash and Sinclair found Imogen? Fucking great. Yeah, just interview the former flame who hates my guts.

"And?"

"Just warning you."

"How kind of you, that is just-"

"Elliot, I know who's behind this. I know who's trying to bring you down."

I start sweating, and Clare is looking straight at me with concern on her face.

"Oh, really? Well, tell me."

"I can't."

"Figures."

"Elliot, if I tell you, I... I will lose everything. Okay? I can only give you a clue."

"I have no time for this, I really don't. Your manipulative games are something that I grew tired of, so..."

"This person is staying at the same hotel you're staying right now. This person is in your inner circle. Be careful. Trust no one."

"That really narrows it down, doesn't it," I reply bitterly.

I feel dizzy, and nauseous, but I'm trying to keep it together in front of Clare. I can't believe this is happening, and I don't know if I should believe Imogen. I don't know anything anymore.

"I know that you don't care about me… But I care about you."

My ear is pressed against my phone as I realize how hurt Imogen sounds. She takes a deep breath and I look at Clare, who has no idea who I am talking to.

"I just thought I would let you know," says Imogen, sounding slightly breathless. "Please, Elliot, trust me."

And I do. I trust her. I don't know why, but I do.

"By the way, congratulations," snaps Imogen, her tone completely different now.

"For?" I ask, confused.

"Your new girlfriend," she says venomously. "Who knew? You settled down with the journalist. Lucky gal."

"Goodbye," I say, and I hang up.

"Who was that?" asks Clare, her eyes wide.

"Imogen," I say sincerely, my eyes narrowed. "She just called to tell me that Sinclair and Nash interviewed her, and that apparently, she knows who the person with an agenda against me is, and oh! She also called to congratulate me, you know, on our relationship-"

"Wait, she knows about us?" blurts Clare. "How did she find out? Who told her?"

"I don't kno-"

Oh. Oh, fuck. Oh, no.

"What's wrong?" asks Clare in alarm, and I must look like shit, because I feel like it. Imogen knows about my relationship with Clare, but how? There is only one person who could have told her, because he's the only one in my crew who talked (talks?) to her and that's...

"Drew," I say, and I can't breathe. "Drew. Drew is behind all this."

That's why he acts so calm whenever I talk about Nash and Sinclair. Johnny's warning. Fuck, Johnny must know something, he must. Drew's hesitation when we talked about Fitz and when I told him what I knew. Drew.

"Wait, how did you figure this out?" asks Clare, moving closer to me and holding my hand.

"I just... we need to call Johnny,... and Adam... fuck, and Zane," I blurt, and I hand my phone to Clare.

_**Later**_

"We have thirty minutes before the press conference, this better be important," says Adam, glancing at his watch. I'm sitting on my bed, Clare's hand wrapped around mine for support.

Zane is looking at his fingernails and Johnny looks simply curious, and I clear my throat. "Guys, be honest with me," I say. "Is Drew still talking to Imogen?"

Adam shakes his head, Zane shrugs, and Johnny is silent. My eyes focus on my bodyguard/driver and he avoids my stare. He knows.

"Johnny," I say, trying to sound somewhat scary. "Look at me and be honest."

Johnny reluctantly looks at me, his hands deep in his pockets, and he just gives me a silent nod. Fuck.

"No, he's not," interrupts Adam. "Drew promised me he broke up with Imogen, you know? He did!"

"He still talks to her," says Johnny softly. "They're still together."

I feel my insides twist and turn, but I don't say a word. Drew's betrayal doesn't surprise me, but it still hurts. Adam looks furious, and he starts muttering under his breath, his face red.

"Johnny, I know Drew is behind everything," I say suddenly, and the room feels cold.

"Behind what?" asks Zane.

"Yeah, Eli, behind what?" snaps Adam angrily. "What the fuck is going on?"

I just stare at Johnny, who is giving me this strange look, but the expression in his eyes is all I need to know. I'm right; Drew is a traitor.

"Elaborate," I tell Johnny.

"I'll get fired," mumbles Johnny as any signs of color disappear from his face.

"I'm your boss, if anyone is getting fired, it's Drew," I say crossly.

"Eli, what the fuck?" insists Adam, but I just want Johnny to start talking.

"Where do you want me to start?" asks Johnny in defeat.

"Mark Fitzgerald," I say at once, and Clare squeezes my hand. "What do you know about that?"

"I know Drew was very upset when he figured out you were seeing Miss Edwards," sighs Johnny. "Drew kind of confides in me a lot, he knows I won't say a word... well, until now, that is. I don't why he was so upset, though. He told me he was worried your writing style would change or something. I say bullshit, there is something else behind it. Anyway, one day he just gave me this phone number, and told me to contact Fitzgerald. Drew told me to tell the guy that it was very important for them to meet. Something about Fitzgerald and his secret. That's all I know."

"Drew hired Fitz?" gasps Clare.

"How did Drew find out about Fitz being gay?" frowns Zane. "I mean, it's not common knowledge unless you're in the LGBT community."

"I don't know how he found out," admits Johnny. "I just know that he talked with Fitzgerald for hours and after that conversation, Fitzgerald seemed distraught. Next thing I knew, Elliot and Clare were broken up."

"You warned me... you warned me about not trusting people," I say, feeling sick. "Before the Fitz thing happened."

"Fitzgerald isn't the only thing," continues Johnny. "Drew is in really good terms with Ellie Nash and Holly J Sinclair. The whole interview fiasco thing? Yeah, he talked to Sinclair two days before the interview. And Nash... I don't know if you noticed at the reading, but Nash had a yearbook in her hands. Your high school yearbook. I gave it to her. Drew gave it to me."

"What?" exclaims Adam. "That isn't possible, I..." Adam is running his fingers through his hair anxiously, and his cheeks are stained red. He looks bewildered, and I feel deeply betrayed. Fucking Drew.

"Why would Drew do this?" says Zane in disgust.

"He wants to destroy Elliot," says Johnny sadly. "I don't know why, but he does. I think his plan is to feed information to those journalists so they can write a profile that will discredit you."

"That makes no sense, we'll sue them for libel," says Adam at once, sounding hurt.

"Not if they're telling the truth," I say miserably. "Not if they talk about Julia."

"Julia?" ask Johnny and Zane at the same time.

"Oh, come on, you must know," I say, looking at Johnny.

"I've... heard things," admits Johnny. "Things Drew has told me. But... not much. I do know that Elliot Gold is not your real name."

"It's not?" gasps Zane.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "My real name is Elijah Goldsworthy."

"Oh... well, fuck," says Zane, placing a hand on his forehead.

"I can't believe Drew... I just... God, Eli, I'm so sorry," says Adam, sounding wretched. "I need to go talk to him and... I..."

"No," says Clare forcefully, standing up as she lets go of my hand. "I've been thinking... I have an idea."

We all stare at her and she seems suddenly self-conscious, but she still looks determined. "However, we need to call Mark Fitzgerald first," she says, and looks at Johnny. "Do you still have his number?"

"Yeah... I think," says Johnny as he pulls out his phone. "Yeah, here it is."

Johnny walks over to Clare and hands her his phone, and she is quick to dial the number. She puts it on speaker and I have never seen her look so angry, so pissed off, so... hot. Damn.

"Hello?" says a cheerful voice on the other side. "I thought you wouldn't be contacting me again-"

"This is Clare Edwards, Dixon Magazine."

Silence.

"Mark, we need to talk. Please don't hang up."

"Clare, I don't-"

"This is off the record, Mark."

"Oh... okay."

"What is your relationship with Drew Torres?" asks Clare boldly, and I feel like hugging her. Or fucking her. Same thing.

"Whoa, Clare, I don't know who that is."

"Lies, Mark. You're lying to me."

"No, I-"

"Mark, I really need confirmation on some things, I need your help." Now Clare is pleading, her voice sweet, but she still looks pissed off. She's awesome.

"I could get in trouble, Clare."

"You told Elliot Gold I had an affair with you. I don't care about your well-being. You put my reputation on the line, I could easily sue you. I can prove that you lied about me."

More silence on the other line, and all of us are staring at Clare in complete and utter awe. She's bluffing, but man, I'm shivering.

"You don't understand, Clare. You really don't."

"Try me, Mark. I thought you cared about me."

"I do, you were a great support but... I don't know."

"Off the record, Mark. Nobody will find out I talked to you. I promise."

"This is a bit complicated."

"I always keep my promises."

We listen to Fitz sigh, and we know that he's about to break down.

"Yeah, he... he contacted me through his employee. We talked briefly on the phone and said he had a job offer for me. He knew that my theater was going through some rough times and he offered me a lot of money, Couldn't say no. I flew to the city where you guys were staying at, and when he told me what the job consisted of, I declined. And then he told me he knew about my... um, little deviation and blackmailed me. I just had to do it! Clare, please forgive me, I really care about you, you-"

"It's okay, Mark, I forgive you," says Clare tenderly. "I was just surprised when I found out."

"Don't tell Drew, please. He will kill me if he finds out I talked to you."

"Don't worry, I won't. Thanks, Mark."

"No pro-"

Clare hangs up and hands the phone to Johnny, a satisfied smile on her face.

"No wonder you're a great journalist, you got the information just like that!" says Zane in approval as he snaps his fingers. Clare blushes but just nods shyly.

"We confirmed that," says Clare. "We can't do anything about Nash and Sinclair at the moment, but we can proceed with my plan. And I need Adam's help for that."

Adam shuffles uncomfortably, but nods. "I'll do anything," says Adam desperately. "I can't believe my own brother-"

"Let's not dwell on that," I interrupt.

"I just feel like I've betrayed you too," says Adam sadly.

"You didn't... You haven't," I smile, and Adam looks mildly relieved. He turns to look at Clare and gulps as he wipes his hands on his slacks, his face now green.

"What's the plan?"

_**Later**_

I stand nervously backstage, my palms sweaty and my heartbeat erratic. A panic attack is threatening to ruin everything, but I have to remain calm or I'll ruin Clare's and Adam's plan.

"Breathe," mumbles Adam as he stands next to me. We're listening to Drew's voice through the speakers, listening to his instructions to the press. Drew has no idea that we're about to shatter all of his "hard" work.

Clare is standing on my other side, and I glance at her. "After this explodes, will you still want to be with me?" I ask fearfully.

She gives me a smile and I can feel my heartbeats returning to normal. "Hey, you're stuck with me... just like you said I'm stuck with you," she says softly.

"Ew, straight sticking," mocks Zane somewhere in the background.

"Fuck, I'm so nervous," I blurt, and Adam places a hand on my shoulder as Clare's fingers slide between mine.

"You'll be okay," reassures Adam. "Just be honest."

"And you will have to leave tomorrow morning," I whine, looking at Clare.

"Wesley said it was our safest bet," says Clare, but she sounds sad. "But it's okay, you'll get to enjoy L.A and part of Europe, I'll be slaving away in the newsroom."

"Sounds hardly fair," I smirk.

"Let's not think about that right now," she says, and then Drew appears backstage.

"They're ready for you," he says, his eyes lingering on us. We look like a united front; I have Clare and Adam by my side, and Zane and Johnny are just behind us. Drew shakes his head and snaps his fingers at me, and I'm trying hard not to kill him. Adam and Clare let go of me and Johnny's hand is pressed gently against my back.

"Good luck, boss," he says gruflly and I follow Drew to the stage.

The flashes blind me instantly, and I haphazardly walk to the chair I'm supposed to sit on, a microphone standing in front of it.

"Eh, hi. Hi," I mumble. As always, a stunning display of verbal acuity. "I know you guys have some questions, but I have something to say."

I look over to where Drew is standing, and I can see that Johnny is very close to him, sticking to our plan. The plan, right.

"Um, there are a lot of rumors about me, which I know you guys want to know about," I say. "I just want to set the record straight, that's all I want."

I breathe deeply, and I see Adam, Clare and Zane join the audience, all of them smiling at me. This is it, I have to let go, I have to do it.

"Elliot Gold is not my real name," I say, and the gasps escaping the press are a bit overwhelming. They start taking pictures like crazy, and they write down stuff on their notebooks like it's the most important news story ever. I glance at Drew and he's struggling to get out of Johnny's grip, but he can't.

"My real name is Elijah Goldsworthy, I was born and raised in Terrace, British Columbia... you know, Canada is more than just Ontario," I say, causing a few chuckles. "Um... Yeah, so, Elliot Gold is a pseudonym, my agent made me change my name, afraid that something that happened in my past would come out and damage my career."

I sigh, and all eyes are on me. But I just focus on the blue eyes that are in the middle of the crowd, and I know that I can do this.

"When I was fifteen, I got into a fight with my girlfriend, Julia," I say, and I can feel my chest getting lighter already. "Yeah, she's the J mentioned in my books, so you can cross that out. I messed up big time. It wasn't a petty breakup, no. I was sick, mentally, I mean, and I really, really fucked up. We were fighting on the roof of her apartment building... of all places, huh? And it was raining and... she slipped."

I will never confess that Julia killed herself, not in public. I think that it would only bring more pain to her dad, and I don't want that. Plus, it's too late and nobody will believe me anyway.

More gasps and flashes break the silence, and hands are in the air, ready to ask questions. "Many people thought I pushed her, and I don't blame them," I say, my eyes on Clare. "But I didn't. I was fucked up but not _that _fucked up. Anyway, I left Terrace after graduation and going to therapy, and I wrote my first novel. And here I am."

I try to catch my breath again, and I don't dare look at Drew. "That is my dirty little secret, so to speak. My secrets," I say nonchalantly. "I have nothing else to hide. Questions?"

A hundred hands in the air, and I want to run away. But Clare simply smiles at me, she looks so fucking proud of me, and I know I have to stay.

_**Later**_

After two grueling hours of non-stop questions, Adam decided to end the press conference. I don't know what is going to happen now, all I know is that Nash and Sinclair don't have a story anymore. I talked about Julia, about Imogen, about my depression. I hinted that I'm in a relationship now, but that for the time being, I'd rather keep that private. The press didn't care, they had enough dirt to get them through the next century.

So maybe I destroyed my career. But I will survive. I have enough money saved up, I own my apartment, I have Clare. I will be okay.

Adam hugs me backstage and he has tears in his eyes, and I know that he's relieved too. He doesn't have to carry my secrets with him anymore. "This is the best thing we could have done," says Adam as he looks around. "Clare was right, it was going to get out anyway. But we did it first, so... there's hope."

"Where's Drew?" I ask,

"In his room," says Adam darkly. "With Johnny. I told him that you would be joining them shortly... to talk."

"Right, right..." I say uneasily and my phone starts ringing. I look at the caller ID, and shocker, unknown number.

"Yeah?" I answer tiredly.

"I saw some of the bits of your press conference in Texas," says a voice I recognize at once. "They're all over the internet. You really came clean, eh?"

"Yeah, I did... sorry, Vince," I apologize. "Sorry if this brought shit up."

"Don't apologize," says Vince, and he sounds happy. "It kind of gave me closure, you know. Knowing that you publicly acknowledged what happened that night."

"It had to happen," I say. "Vince, how did you get my number?"

"I still keep in touch with Drew... always have," explains Vince. "He came visit two years ago and I asked if I could have your number. He seemed a bit uneasy about it but he gave it to me. But I just kept the piece of paper in a drawer."

"He visited you?" I frown.

"Yeah, we went to the church where we keep Julia's ashes," says Vince. "Drew and Julia were kind of close, remember? Yeah, he used to come to our apartment all the time. Poor kid, you could tell he liked Julia, but she was in love with you, so he never got a chance, did he?"

Drew used to hang out with Julia all the time... I didn't know, I had no idea. I had no idea they even talked to each other. I... I never knew.

"Guess not," I say calmly. "Nice talking to you, Vince, but we have a media mess to clean up."

"Come visit us... maybe you can go visit Julia," says Vince, and I consider it.

"I'll save your number and keep in touch," I say, my throat feeling sore.

"Bye, Eli."

"Bye, Vince."

I hang up and I look at Adam in despair, and he quickly puts a hand on my shoulder. "Vince? Julia's dad?" he asks.

"Adam, did Drew ever talk about Julia to you?" I ask quickly.

"What? No," says Adam, sounding confused. "I think they had a class together, but that's all."

"Okay... okay," I say gravely as everything starts to sink in. "Where's Clare? I need to see her before I go talk to Drew."

"Right there," says Adam, pointing at a corner where Clare is talking to a handsome-looking journalist. They shake hands and Clare walks away, heading our way.

"I need to make some calls," says Adam as Clare approaches us. "I'll be right back."

"That was a staff writer for the _Dallas Morning News,_" says Clare happily. "He said that this was a smart PR move. I think things will be oka-"

I kiss her as I wrap my arms around her, and she kisses me back. She's the only thing I'm certain of at the moment, and I need her. I need to know she's staying with me no matter what.

"I love you," I breathe against her lips.

"I love you too," she replies. "I'm so proud of you. You handled that conference so well."

"Thanks to you," I say, and she giggles.

"Nah, that was all you," she says, and kisses me again. "Are you going to talk to Drew now?"

"Mhm," I say, placing a kiss on her forehead. "I'm not ready, but I need to get this over with."

"Do you want me to go with you?" she asks, her blue eyes shining with concern.

"No... I'll be okay," I say. "Johnny will be there, I mean, outside the room, so... I'll be okay."

I give her one last kiss and I start walking away, but I hear footsteps behind me and I turn around as Clare puts her arms around my neck and pulls me in for a fast, passionate kiss.

"I love you, don't forget that," she says, and I know she means it.

_**Later**_

Johnny opens the door and the first thing I notice is his swollen eye.

"What happened?" I ask in alarm.

"He threw a lamp at me," shrugs Johnny. "And fired me five times."

I smirk and I walk in, beckoning Johnny to leave the room. I close the door after Johnny walks out, and I can hear Drew cursing at himself and throwing things around.

"Drew," I say, my voice icy and distant as I approach him. Drew looks deranged, I have never seen him look so furious.

"What the fuck was that? What did you do? Why would you do that?" he yells. "You did all this behind my back, and nobody is telling me anything and-"

"You're the one who needs to answer my questions," I say, my tone low and menacing. "Why did you sell me out? I know everything, Drew. I know about Fitz, about Sinclair, about Nash... about Julia."

Drew's mouth is hanging open, and he stares at me blankly.

"Goddamn it, Drew, just answer me," I say exasperatedly.

"Fuck you, Eli," he says bitterly as he tries to walk out of the room, but I grab him by the sleeve and push him against the wall.

"You're not going anywhere," I snarl as I hold him against the wall. "Start talking."

Drew sighs heavily, his eyes staring at me with pure hatred, and his expression is one of contempt.

"Fine. Fine. Let's talk."


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi. **

**Author's note: Ah, just a few chapters left! I'll be sad when this is over. But no worries, I'm already planning the next fic (which, well, it may be a tad ambitious, so I'm still working out the details) and _Super Powers Enable Me To_ also has a few chapters left so you're not getting rid of me that easily. Sorry. Okay, so, let's see what Drew has to say...**

"_It's not so pleasant, and it's not so conventional. It sure as hell ain't normal, but we deal, we deal."_

_**Camisado, Panic! At The Disco **_

"Fine. Fine. Let's talk."

I let go of Drew and step back while my former agent tries to fix his shirt. We're both breathing heavily, and it takes a long time for Drew to look me in the eye and start talking.

"You've always had everything I don't," says Drew bitterly, and this first comment confuses me. "Adam would gladly exchange me to have you as a brother. Your parents were always supportive, unlike mine. Everybody in high school respected you, I was just another dumb jock to them. And you had... you had _her._"

I swallow, my head spinning. "People in high school were afraid of me, Drew, that wasn't respect," I spit. "Adam loves you, you idiot. Yeah, we're like brothers but you guys have something else. And Julia... I didn't even know you guys talked to each other."

"Oh, we did," says Drew, a dry chuckle escaping him. "We had a class together... math. She used to sit in front of me and we would always talk. But of course, she was dating you and... she didn't care about me."

There is pain in Drew's voice, so I remain quiet. He clears his throat several times and I feel sorry for him all of a sudden. No, don't pity him, just make him talk. He doesn't deserve your pity, Eli.

"But then you guys started fighting... I could see how she started distancing herself from you," continues Drew. "And I was like, fuck, this is my chance. So we started hanging out outside of school. She was fucking beautiful, she was just so amazing. But she still loved you, and I fucking hated you for that."

"I... didn't know..." I blurt aimlessly.

"Of course you didn't, you self-centered prick," says Drew angrily. "The day she died... she called me... told me what happened. What you did. I wanted to kill you."

"She told you?" I ask, and I feel a blade piercing my already aching heart. I thought nobody knew about that except Vince, Clare and myself. I thought... Oh.

"Yeah, and she told me she was going to break up with you," says Drew, and a sudden sad smile appears on his face. "She asked me, 'Drew Torres, do you like New York?'"

This hurts. Fuck, it just hurts so much. I sit on the bed, dazed and utterly destroyed. Julia... Julia... Why did this happen?

"I could tell she was a little drunk," sighs Drew, and he doesn't look angry anymore. "But I just told her I would drop by later. And we both know what happened later.

"You killed her, Eli. I don't care what people say. I know you didn't push her, but goddamn it, you destroyed her. You ruined her life. And when she died... you killed me too."

I look up and stare at Drew, and he looks wretched. He loved Julia too, I took her away from him. I wonder if it would have worked out between them, if they would be married by now while I watched from the sidelines. So many possibilities, and I destroyed them all.

"When you approached me that night..." I start, recalling the first time Drew spoke directly to me after Julia's death.

"I wanted revenge," says Drew simply. "I had a knife in my pocket. I was ready to kill you."

My stomach drops, and Drew starts shaking his head. "But I could hear her voice in my head... you weren't worth it," sneers Drew. "I would spend all my life in prison for killing you... not worth it. I decided to just stick around and wait until the time was right. You started going to therapy and writing, and you know, college happened and I thought... well, if I really want to become a literary agent, maybe I should represent Eli. Yeah, why not?"

"You helped me," I say hoarsely.

"Yeah, well," he says pragmatically. "I thought, I can make money off of him. Fair enough. Then you started getting successful, I started getting more clients... Met Bianca, and life was looking good. I was happy, and you were still miserable, and that's all that mattered. And then you met Imogen at that party."

Yes, I remember meeting Imogen, thinking how much she resembled Julia. I wonder if Drew felt the same way.

"A substandard version of Julia," says Drew, as if reading my thoughts. "I really liked Imogen, but just like with Julia, I waited. I lied, Eli. I started sleeping with her a week after you two met."

At this point I just feel nauseous, and if I speak, I might just vomit all over the carpet.

"It was kind of bittersweet," he chuckles. "I was sleeping with the girl you were sleeping with. Kind of a payback, even if you never cared much for Imogen. I love her, I'm leaving Bianca for her... eventually."

I don't want to hear about this anymore. "Why did you sell me out?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

"I wanted to destroy your career," he shrugs. "You are at the top of the world right now, and I wanted to bring you down in the most spectacular way. Destroy you."

He says this so calmly, so coldly, and I wonder if there's any blood running in his veins right now. He's fueled by grief and hatred, and this scares me.

"I contacted this writer from Dixon magazine, a writer who I knew had no morals," drawls Drew. "I made a deal with Jesse, the writer, and I agreed to give him information while he pretended to follow you in the book tour and write a profile. He presented the idea, well the _official_ idea, to the editor and he agreed. Everything seemed to be on track.

Then, that day when we had the lunch, Clare Edwards showed up. I was really confused, because Jesse assured me he was writing the profile. I contacted him after Clare left, and he told me he got fired for making up some quotes from an article. He didn't bother calling me before to let me know, sleazy asshole. But he recommended his girlfriend, Ellie Nash, and I thought, well, let's continue this charade with Edwards and I'll help Nash. It just went on from there."

"You're such a-" I say, but I can't even speak properly. I feel sick, and betrayed, but mostly sick.

"But then Edwards started to ruin things," says Drew, and his voice is dripping with anger and frustration. "You started to fall for her. I could see it. You started to be... happy. I couldn't allow that. You don't deserve to be happy, you know? Not after what you did. I knew it would be dangerous if you got involved with her, and then things with you two started heating up... I mean, sneaking around and fucking in public restrooms? How classy."

A sudden image of me making out with Clare and someone walking in, taking their time in the restroom... Fuck, we weren't fooling anyone, were we?

"I read some of Clare's articles and I came across Mark Fitzgerald," continues Drew. "Made a little research on the guy, found out he's a fag, and well, I came up with a little plan. Poor idiot, he needed the money but he lied perfectly. You broke up with Clare, and I sighed with relief. But that soon fell apart too, and I started to get desperate. I kept feeding information to Nash and Sinclair, but today, you just ruined everything. I guess you win."

He stops talking and I just sit here, trying to collect myself. This is too much. I really can't deal with all this betrayal, all this pain.

"Needless to say, you're fired," I say finally.

"Not shocked," says Drew. "Liberty Van Zandt will be pleased. She has wanted to represent you since your first novel came out-"

"Why are you acting so indifferent about all this?" I interrupt. "What you did was incredibly fucked up!"

"You killed the love of my life," retorts Drew. "After all these years, I still love her. And you just moved on."

"It took me years to move on," I say, standing up. "Fucking years, Drew! Do you think I don't feel guilty about her death? That is going to haunt me forever. Isn't that enough for you?"

"No, because it won't bring Julia back," deadpans Drew.

"Well, all this conspiracy against me won't either!" I say hysterically.

"I know, but... fucking hell, Eli, you always get away with everything," he says in defeat. "Good luck with your life."

He just picks up his wallet and his phone, nothing else. He gives me one last look and he looks a hundred years older. He's damaged just like I am, and if I wasn't so mad at him, I might even offer him comfort. But he wanted to destroy me, he has never been my friend, he's an enemy. And that is an unavoidable fact we will both have to live with.

"You win," he says absentmindedly. "As always, Elijah Goldsworthy wins. Life is truly a bitch."

And with those parting words, Drew leaves the room, leaves my life, and leaves me in pieces.

_**Later**_

"I love you. I love you so much."

Clare is kissing me on the forehead, her arms wrapped tightly around me. I feel so broken, and Drew's words are still hurting my ears. Do I deserve to be happy? Maybe Drew is right. Maybe I need to be a wreck for the rest of my life.

But then I look into Clare's eyes and I know that I can't. She makes me want to be a better person, and I know that if I want to be with her, I need to let go of the past. I find her lips and I kiss her, our lips moving slowly. She listened to me for hours, and dawn is threatening to find us anytime now.

We stop kissing and I run my fingers through her hair, my teeth torturing my lower lip. I don't say anything, I just look at her, and she smiles at me in the middle of the silence.

"I don't want you to leave," I breathe.

"We're only going to be apart for three weeks," she assures me, and that feels like a lifetime.

"Hopefully things will die down by then," I say, not too convinced.

"Probably," she nods. "It's only a matter of time until the next major Canadian celebrity scandal breaks out."

I kiss her again and my hand slides under her shirt, and I want her. I want her so bad.

"We have two hours," I mutter against her lips.

"Yeah," she says breathlessly as her hands start to unbuckle my belt. It doesn't take us long to take off our clothes, to be all over each other, and I enjoy the sensation of her body underneath mine. She's leaving in two hours, two fucking hours, and I won't see her for weeks. I don't know if I'll survive.

"I love you," I say as my hands explore Clare's body eagerly, wanting to memorize her skin with my fingertips.

"I love you too," she says sincerely. "Will you behave?"

I smirk as a distant memory flashes through my mind. But this time it's different, I'm in love with this woman, she's in love with me, and we're not faking anything. This is as real as it gets and maybe, just maybe, this is the start of a not-so-miserable life.

The eyes staring back at me are the bluest of blues, and they're the only eyes I will be thinking of every day until I see Clare again.

"Of course," I assure her. "I'm with you. And only you."

_**Later**_

"This airport is the fucking worst," says Adam exasperatedly. His eyes are red and he looks really tired, and I know that it's because of Drew. Adam talked to his brother after I finished talking to Drew, and I know that things were very ugly. I want to hug Adam but he just looks at me and gives me a smile. I know we'll have all the time in the world to talk in the next few weeks.

Clare walks over to us and she's holding her ticket as she gives us a sad look. Zane gives her a long hug and mutters something in her ear, which cracks her up. "Thanks, Zane," she grins. "Such a shame I won't be able to explore Europe with you guys."

"Shame, indeed," says Johnny as he approaches Clare, extending out his hand. Clare takes it and then gives him a huge smile as she wraps her arms around him. Johnny looks horrified, and pats her on the back, a slight blush on his cheeks.

"Call me as soon as you come back to Toronto," says Clare happily as she lets go of a nervous Johnny. "You have to meet my friend Alli. You just have to."

"Um, yeah, sure," says Johnny, looking embarrassed. "Thanks."

"I will be in touch with you," says Adam, giving Clare a quick hug. "Make sure you don't write anything inappropriate! Haha."

"Writing a major profile in less than two weeks won't be easy," admits Clare as she winks at Adam. "But Wesley really wants this in this issue, so deadlines will be insane."

"I bet," nods Adam. "I have to call Liberty and make sure she'll meet us at LAX. Um, guys, we should walk to our gate while Eli says goodbye to his, er, _girlfriend._"

The guys start chuckling and I try not to blush in front of everyone. They walk away, still laughing, and I roll my eyes at Clare.

"How immature are they?" I ask mockingly.

"Very... very..." she says, wrapping her arms around my neck. I kiss her and for a moment, the whole airport disappears around me. I deepen the kiss, knowing that I won't be able to kiss her for weeks, that we'll only be able to talk on the phone, text, and maybe use a webcam every now and then. Clare insisted that she will never, not a chance, no, she's not taking her clothes off in front of a computer. Bummer.

Our mouths are still connected and now I can feel the people staring, but I'm sure they will understand. I'm just saying goodbye to my girlfriend, to my lover, to the girl who probably will be in my life forever, no matter what. She's my hurricane, she's the one who was in my dreams even when I couldn't see her face.

She picked up the shattered remains of my soul and heart and somehow managed to put them back together. Shatter. Hmm.

I pull back, and her face is red, her lips swollen, and she is smiling at me. Her smile, oh god, that's a smile reserved only for me, and I feel so fucking special and lucky. But most importantly, I feel loved. I rest my forehead on hers, my arms around her waist, and we're slowly swaying on the spot, not letting go.

"You'll be waiting for me, right?" I ask, sounding like an insecure teenager.

Her breath is on my lips, teasing them, making them feel like they're on fire. She kisses me again, and I groan, my body wanting her again although we just slept together a couple of hours ago. I can't get enough of her, I doubt I'll ever will.

She lets go of my lips and places a playful kiss on my exposed neck, giggling against my skin.

"I will be waiting for you," she whispers, and our bodies separate. We smile at each other, the strength of our relationship a silent understanding between us. She starts to walk away, still looking at me, and I can see the tears starting to form in her eyes. She finally turns around and walks toward her gate, and I just watch her go.

I'll have someone waiting for me. It's hard to believe, but it's happening.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi.**

**Author's note: Ah, this is the last "official" chapter. Epilogue will be posted sometime later this week. Now, I've written plenty of articles throughout the years, but I mostly write reviews and such. I've only written two profiles in my life, so my apologies if the excerpts from Eli's profile aren't the most amazing thing ever, haha. Um, thanks to Jenny Eliscu for kind of inspiring a paragraph in the profile. That's all! **

**Dedication: My friend marieloveseclare. She knows why. **

"_When the moon found the sun he looked like he was barely hanging on, but her eyes saved his life in the middle of summer."_

_**When The Day Met The Night, Panic! At The Disco**_

"Dudeeeeeeee, wake up!"

I blink sleepily as Adam pokes me in the shoulder, and I hear the announcement that we're about to land. My heart is already beating fast... I have missed her so much.

Yeah, Europe was fun, although interviewers with funny accents kept asking me questions about Julia, Imogen, and my real name. Yes, Julia died. Yeah, I dated Imogen for a while. Yes, I'm keeping Elliot Gold as my pseudonym. I answered most of the questions until I got tired of it and ended up snapping at several of them. Oops.

I glance at Adam, who is back on his seat and buckling his seat belt, random newspapers spread underneath his feet. It's been a few weeks since the "scandal" broke, but people are still talking about it. We saw several clips online of reporters chasing Imogen, of Drew making some snide comments about my sexuality (whatever) and some even camped outside my parents' house in Terrace. Bullfrog and CeCe managed to avoid reporters, though.

I know that I will have to face the music now that I'm back in Canada, but I don't care. I feel free now, because I have nothing else to hide. It's been a nightmare for poor Adam, with the public relations mess and all, but he seems happier too. Maybe it helped that he met this gorgeous girl in Paris and disappeared with her for hours. Maybe.

"Dixon's new issue comes out tomorrow," says Adam nonchalantly.

"I know," I say, and I try to forget that the profile that caused my life to become a rollercoaster will be read by possibly millions of people. I wonder what Clare wrote about me and… I don't know if I want to read it.

"Are you excited to be back home?" asks Zane, a sleepy smile on his face. I nod as Johnny gives us a glance, shaking his head in amusement.

"You?" I ask.

"Yeah, I missed Riley," says Zane sheepishly. "I hope he likes all the stuff I bought for him! Hopefully it will make up for all this time we've spent apart."

"I'm sure he will love everything," I say happily. I keep thinking of Clare, of all those late night conversations, with us being all goofy because of the time difference, saying silly things but also talking about the future. Funny. I had never thought about "forever" until I met her. It's a strange thought for me.

"I can't believe you managed to draft an entire book during our trip," says Adam suddenly, and I can feel my face getting hot. True, after every single reading and/or interview I locked myself in my room and typed like a maniac for hours. I would stop just to eat something or to call Clare, but the words were flowing like they never had before. I'm pretty sure that I will be able to finish this new book soon.

"He better get his act together and finish it, he's on top of the world right now," says a voice behind me, and I smirk. Liberty is probably the toughest woman I've ever met, but she's a great agent and really professional, even if she's not here to make friends. That's fine with me.

"Will do, boss lady," I say, laughter in my voice.

"Gold, stop being a smart-ass," retorts Liberty, but I can tell she's not mad. "I already have an annoying husband back home."

"Hey, I've met J.T, he's actually a pretty cool guy," protests Adam, and I see a plastic fork hit Adam in the face.

"Liberty!" gasps Adam.

"Sorry," chuckles Liberty, and I roll my eyes in amusement.

The plane finally lands and we scramble to get out, but I'm trying to remain somewhat calm in front of everyone. We have to walk through customs and I feel my impatience getting the best of me, because I can only think of her, and I answer some questions dryly as officers look at my IDs. After a few painful minutes, we're free to go and we walk over to the baggage claim area, but I'm already looking around. Where is she?

"She's probably late," says Johnny, and the mock in his voice surprises me.

"Isn't she always?" chuckles Adam, and I narrow my eyes at all of them.

"Very funny," I say, trying to sound hurt.

"Okay, I actually left my car in the parking lot," says Liberty as she swiftly gets all her luggage. "Do you need a ride, any of you? No? Okay. I will call you later to discuss the new book."

"I'll look forward to it," I say sarcastically, and Liberty gives me a warning look. Damn. She really means business. I like her.

Zane mumbles something about his suitcase looking a bit battered up, Adam picks up his bags effortlessly, and Johnny is still giving me a weird look.

"Yeah?" I ask uneasily.

"Nothing, it's just… I will miss hanging out with you guys every day," he says seriously and then shock crosses his face, as if he can't believe he just said that.

"Wait, you have feelings?" teases Zane, and Johnny blushes for a second.

"Shut up," he mutters as he grabs his bag.

"Aw, Johnny, you will still get to see me often," I say, pinching his cheek.

"Glad you're finding this amusing," says Johnny through gritted teeth.

"Have I ever told you you're my hero?" I sing loudly, and Johnny walks away from us as fast as he can, giving us the middle finger.

"Dude, wait, we're sharing a cab!" says Zane after him. "Keep in touch, okay? See you guys later!"

Zane waves goodbye to us hastily as he runs after Johnny, his bags rattling loudly as he chases after him. I give Adam a look and we both start laughing until tears are stinging our eyes, trying to catch our breath.

"Do you need a ride?" I ask Adam after we manage to regain our composure.

"No, thank you, I don't need to see you lovebirds making out in front of me," he says, mockingly disgusted.

"That's if she shows up," I say miserably. What if she changed her mind? What if she got tired of waiting for me after three weeks?

"She will, Eli, don't be a drama queen," retorts Adam, and then his face lights up as he sees something behind me. "Ah. Turn around."

I do as he says and the world stops. She's running over to us, her face bright red and she bumps into some guy who yells something at her, but she keeps running. I can't breathe, and I drop my bags as she approaches us. She's here.

In a split second her arms are around my neck and her lips are on mine and I hold on to her, realizing that I really didn't know how much I missed her until now. She's everything I can feel, touch, breathe. She's everything, period.

"Oh, hi," says Adam, clearing his throat, and Clare stops kissing me.

"Sorry," she blurts. "Hi, Adam!" She lets go of me and gives me my best friend a tight hug, which Adam responds to eagerly. They make some small talk and I keep giving Adam meaningful glances, which he promptly ignores.

"Okay, okay, I'm leaving," he says after I give him the ultimate evil glare.

"Do you need a ride?" asks Clare and Adam shakes his head at once.

"Nope, I kind of want to be alone right now… in a cab," says Adam, his smile contagious. "I will see you guys soon… Send me a copy of the magazine, will you?"

"Sure will, sir," nods Clare, and Adam leaves after winking at us. Clare turns around to face me and she's smiling that beautiful smile of hers, the one that made me fall in love with her.

"So, how was your flight?" she asks sweetly.

"Way too long," I say breathlessly as my arms wrap around her, and I kiss her fiercely, not caring about the people around us.

She's the only person I care about right now.

_**Later**_

"So, this is your apartment," I say as we walk in to the tiny space.

"You've seen most of it via webcam," she says, a shy expression on her face. "Not much, but hey, I am allowed to live here."

I put down my bags as Clare starts picking up some books from the couch, and I see some framed pictures on the walls. There is a photo of her wearing glasses and I smile because she looks incredibly young in it, not to mention that her hair is long and curly. But the smile is still there.

"So…." She says, handing me a large envelope. I take it and open it, and the brand new issue of Dixon Magazine is presented to me.

The cover is a photograph of me in the middle of the stage, a smirk on my face and my eyes lowered, and it's only the microphone and me. I'm holding a copy of _Utopia _in my hands and it's a really good photograph. It looks like it was taken during a photoshoot, but it wasn't. I've never liked having my picture taken, but I feel like this photo… well, I feel like it captured _me_. I wonder when this picture was taken.

"Edmonton," she says, reading my thoughts. "The reading before the signing."

"The signing before we first kissed," I remind her, and she blushes.

"Yeah, that one," she says, and I keep staring at the cover. "You don't like the photograph?"

"It's not that… I just look so… lonely," I say finally, running my fingers over the cover. "I was lonely at the time, I suppose."

"Oh." She looks sad and I give her a quick kiss, I hate seeing her sad.

"It's amazing, Clare," I say. "I didn't know you were this good at photography too."

"I'm going to take a shower, I had a long day before picking you up…. No, you can't join me," she adds, noticing my knowing stare. "I want you to read the profile, okay? And let me know what you think."

"Okay," I nod, and she kisses me softly before walking away. It's fine, I guess, we'll have plenty of time to catch up and do, well, _other _stuff. I hear the bathroom door close and I sit on the couch, flipping through the magazine as I search for the profile.

Another picture of me appears, and this time it's me sitting all by myself by the window of some hotel room (when did she take this?) and I look all alone, again.

I sigh as I look at the headline, smirk when I see Clare's byline, and I start to read.

_**Serpentine Words**_

_How tragedy and death shaped the convoluted prose of Elliot Gold_

_By Clare Edwards_

_Pick up a dictionary. Thousands of words appear, many meanings, many applications. And yet, none of these words seem to be able to define the nature of writer Elliot Gold. _

Aw, shucks. How flattering.

_Ever since Gold entered the literary scene five years ago, he has been surrounded by controversial remarks about his past and his personal life. Living in the shadows of mystique hasn't been easy for the author, who has always been reluctant to answer personal questions in interviews-_

I continue reading; there are a few quotes from me and some from other people in my life, and the whole I-changed-my-name thing gets addressed.

_And somewhere along the road, Elijah Goldsworthy became Elliot Gold as an attempt to bury the past. _

Bury the past. Hmm, well, it didn't work did it? I read more and I feel uncomfortable about some of the observations she makes about me, but they are all pretty accurate.

_His obsession with death is a bit more than that; it's not really obsession, it's part of his life. _

"_It's funny how everybody is afraid of death, afraid of dying," says Gold. "I find it fascinating that in just one second everything can disappear, that in just one second, your life is over. Just like that... without a real warning, without notice. Suddenly, you're nothing."_

Clare then goes on to talk about the whole Julia incident, which hurts to see on writing, but I think that she was fair enough. I try not to get emotional as I read that paragraph and I continue reading, captivated by the way Clare managed to get her emotions out of the way to write this. I will never understand journalism: You have to be neutral, unbiased…

I can't. I'm always so emotional when I write, even if I did start distancing myself from my writing like Clare pointed out. I'm pretty sure that has changed with the new book I'm writing. I read, smirking at some of the quotes from Adam, frowning at a snide quote from Drew, and I widen my eyes when Clare quotes a couple of fans at a reading. The fans say that I'm great and all, but that they think that I'm unapproachable. Kind of a dick. Oh.

My heart stops for a moment and it hits me that Clare _started _writing this since day one, and that she saw everything. I wonder if I always seemed like some sort of a distant human being. I just didn't want to get hurt. Not after Julia. I always kept people at a distance because I felt that everyone was out to get me. Except for Adam and Drew… well, we all know how things with Drew turned out.

I reach the end of the profile, which somehow managed to humanize me without being a scandalous tell-all, and I feel so proud of Clare. Not because she wrote about me, I'm not that conceited, but because she is truly talented and she managed to finish writing this in such a short period of time. I read the last two paragraphs and let out a bittersweet chuckle.

_But behind all that cockiness, the mysteriousness and the confidence, a sometimes-insecure young man still hides. A perfect example is the night of the opening date of his tour, where he's standing in the middle of the room that has been provided as a press area. He looks around uneasily, apparently overwhelmed by the attention. _

I remember that night. I was so worried about Clare not showing up, although we barely knew each other. Man, she always had me, even when I wasn't aware of it.

_Gold seems suddenly human: but it's just for a second, just for a brief instant, because someone from his staff approaches him and tells him it's time to go. He smirks confidently again, and the moment is gone. _

I close the magazine and put it aside, thinking. I know I haven't been the nicest guy, but it really amazes me how people have this distinct vision of me. Some idolize me, some hate me. I'm nothing special, I just wish they could see that.

"Eli, can you come over here, please?" I hear Clare calling from her bedroom and I stand up, still thinking about the profile.

"Hey, I finished reading the profile and it was gr-"

Oh. Oh my… _Oh._

She's standing in front of the bed, her hair slightly damp, and she's smiling nervously. She's wearing lacy underwear and she looks… Wow.

"Did you like it?" she asks, her face very, very red.

"Liked… Um, liked… like what?" I blurt stupidly.

"You were talking about the profile," she giggles, but I'm already walking toward her, our bodies almost like magnets. I start kissing her, and my hands are on her bare waist, her skin burning the palms of my hands.

"I… loved… it," I breathe between kisses. "You were ruthless."

"No, I just showed all sides of the story!" she says in alarm, and I wink at her.

"I know, it was a very honest profile," I say as her hands start tugging on my t-shirt. "I appreciate that. But can we stop talking about this for a moment? It's been weeks, Clare. _Weeks_."

"You sound so needy," she says, and I realize that she's mocking me.

"Are you enjoying my sexual frustration?" I tease.

"Maybe… perhaps…" she says, sneering. A playful growl escapes me and we end up on the bed, and she starts laughing. I place quick kisses on her neck, my fingers digging into her hips, and her laughter turns into hurried moans.

"Eli," she breathes and my clothes are starting to bother me, so I take them off as fast I can until I'm wearing nothing but my boxers.

"I really, really missed you," I say, not caring if I sound pathetic.

"Same here, you have no idea," she says, and we kiss hungrily as we get rid of the rest of our clothes. My lips are all over her body, and all those nights I spent thinking of her are urging my body to act, because I want her so much. I try to slow down but I can't, my teeth are leaving marks are all over her quivering body because fuck, she's mine, and I'm hers, and we both know it now.

It's an understanding.

Our foreplay doesn't last long, because she keeps whimpering and giving me meaningful looks, so I push into her, my mind a complete mess. I flip us over and she's on top of me, and I'm able to see all of her, every single inch of her, and I ran my hand over her stomach. My fingers touch the bite mark I just left a few minutes ago, and she has her eyes closed, and she's biting her lower lip as she moves faster.

Fuck, I missed her. I missed this, _us_.

I'm still holding on to her hips, and can see bruises appearing under my fingertips where I'm forcefully grabbing her. I keep forgetting that her skin is so delicate, and I feel a twinge of guilt that is quickly replaced by pleasure when Clare gasps sharply, and I lose control of everything. It's as if I'm suddenly blinded, because I can't see a thing, everything is light, everything is bright, and I'm definitely not in control of my body.

I start being aware of my surroundings gradually, and Clare leans in to kiss me, her soft lips warming up mine. I'm still breathless and I must look slightly dazed, because Clare is giving me a shrewd smile.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

"Yes… I just… I _really _missed you, " I gasp, and she kisses me again. We continue to kiss as she proceeds to lay down next to me, our arms now around each other. She smiles against my lips every time I kiss her, and I love it when she does this. I like that I'm able to make her happy.

"You lied," I say suddenly.

"About what?" she asks, her blue eyes as wide as ever.

"The day we met, you said '_Mr. Gold, I will try not to bother you too much. I will be a wallflower.'_" I chuckle and she smiles but doesn't say anything.

"So, what's next?" she asks quietly, still blushing. "No more signings? Readings?"

"I'm writing a new book," I say, my arm wrapped around her waist. I kiss her forehead and sigh happily, feeling utterly complete. "That's one thing. It means that all of this chaos might happen again soon."

"What is it about? The new book?" she asks curiously.

I look at her and our eyes meet, and I can't help but smile. The answer should be obvious, because she's my only inspiration, the only thing that keeps me being creative. She turned my world upside down when I wasn't expecting it; she shattered all my defenses and got rid of most of my apathy. She… saved me.

It's about her, of course. But she doesn't have to know.

"You'll see, Clare Edwards. You'll see."


	20. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi.**

**Author's note: Hello, epilogue! And thank you to everyone who took the time to read this fic. This has been so much fun and I'm really overwhelmed by your response. I'm taking a break (school and stuff, you know?) but my new fic, **_**Quicksilver**_**, will be posted July 1****st****. You can read a teaser for it, just go to my author profile and the link is posted in the About Me box. **

**Dedicated to musiksnob (because she is the best) and marieloveseclare for giving me the idea for this fic. **

"_Taking everything for granted but we still respect the time. We move along with some new passion knowing everything is fine. And I would wait and watch the hours fall in a hundred separate lines…"_

_**New Perspective, Panic! At The Disco**_

_**Months later**_

"And all this craziness is back."

"Yeah. We'll have fun, Torres."

Adam snickers as we stand in the alley, getting ready for the craziness inside. My new book, _Shatter_, is being released today and it's already creating a lot of buzz.

"I still can't believe I got a blurb from Palahniuk," I say, staring at the sky. I recall the night Adam called me to say that Palahniuk read the galleys and contacted Liberty afterwards to say that he would be delighted to be quoted. So unbelievable.

"Well, your book is pretty amazing," says Adam, and I can feel myself blushing. "Clare really brought out a side of your talent I had never seen before… and other things."

"Yeah, she's the best," I admit, feeling warm just thinking about my girlfriend. We just went public a couple of months ago, after the frenzy over the profile died down, and it wasn't much of a shocker or a controversy. It happens.

"Are you ladies done with your chit-chat?" asks Liberty as the door to the back alley opens.

"Yes!" I say quickly and Adam jumps in fright.

"Fuck, you just sneaked up on us!" exclaims Adam, and Liberty starts laughing.

"Your lady friend, Kassie, Karen-" starts Liberty.

"_Katie,_" corrects Adam crossly.

"Whatever her name is," says Liberty impatiently. "She's looking for you. And Gold, the reading is about to start and we have like a million kids out there."

"Fine," I say, and we walk back into the building.

"I must warn you, your ex is out there with her new boyfriend," says Liberty as she hands me some papers to look at.

"I can't believe she's dating that John Mayer wannabe," snorts Adam.

"Craig Manning is a decent musician, even if he's a slut," I say pointedly, not wanting to see Imogen again, but I can't help who shows up at my readings.

"Look who's talking," teases Adam.

"I am domesticated, thank you very much," I point out. "I wonder if Drew knows?"

"Oh, he knows," sneers Adam. "He was pissed off for a while but now he's dating some random chick he met at bar and claims he's in love. My brother, I swear."

"Men. A few morning blowjobs and they think they're in love—Di Marco, where the hell do you think you're going?" yells Liberty, and she walks away from us.

"I feel sorry for J.T," I say amusedly.

Adam just laughs as we approach the back of the stage, and there she is. My muse. She looks tired because she spent all day in the newsroom (now that she's the A&E editor her workload has increased), but she's smiling at me.

"I still can't believe I've had to wait to read the book like everybody else," she pouts as I approach her.

"Sorry, being my girlfriend doesn't mean you get privileges," I say sarcastically.

"I was misled, then!" she grins. "Hello, by the way."

"Hey," I say, leaning in for a kiss. She hums while she kisses me back and I feel someone tugging on the back of my jacket.

"Gold, we have no time for kissy-kisses with the lady," barks Liberty in a business-like tone.

"Sorry, babe, Liberty comes first!" I say as my agent drags me along with her and Clare just laughs and waves goodbye at me. Zane appears out of nowhere and fixes my hair as we walk fast, and then Liberty grabs me by the shoulders and glares at me.

"This reading better be perfect, okay?" she says, and then she smiles warmly. "Go impress them, Elijah."

It's the first time she has addressed me by my real name, and she is beaming like a proud mother. I swallow hard, and she pushes me so I can get on stage.

Whoa.

I had never seen a crowd like this. I'm not great with numbers, but I know that hundreds of people are here. I see my parents in the front row and CeCe is screaming something along the lines of "That's my baby boy!" and Bullfrog is grinning proudly at me. Zane and Johnny are already sitting down as well and they're beaming at me, their hands clutching my book.

A horrified-looking Adam is sitting next to CeCe, who keeps hugging and kissing him on the cheek. Adam's girlfriend, Katie, is just laughing at the whole interaction. Somewhere in the back of the crowd I see Imogen and Craig, and they're making out in front of everybody. Oh, okay.

I spot Jay and Manny somewhere in the middle and Jay waves at me as I smile back. Bianca and Wesley are in the second row, and poor Wesley looks like he can't believe his luck. After a very messy divorce, Bianca met Wesley at some party Liberty organized for me and I guess they hit it off. Such an odd couple, I swear, but they look happy.

Also in the second row I see Alli, who is shooting longing glances at Johnny. For all I know, Johnny has been scared of taking the "next step" with Alli, which means he hasn't asked her out on an official date. I blame it on his shyness.

Clare takes her seat next to Bullfrog, who greets her with a hug, and then CeCe squeals and lets go of Adam as she proceeds to harass Clare. I can't help but laugh as I walk over to the microphone, and my eyes linger on the crowd. Everybody is here to see me, and this is extremely flattering and overwhelming.

"Hello there!" I say, and the crowd applauds and cheers. "Thank you so much for being here, it means a lot. _Shatter _is the product of months and months of doing nothing but writing, and I'm actually quite happy about it. It departs a little from my usual writing style but I really hope that you will like it. So… yeah."

Clare is flipping through the book and I smirk, because I know that she's anxious to read it. I've been keeping her in the dark about it, never writing in front of her, not letting her see the galleys. I can be an asshole, to be honest.

I go to the page Adam marked for me, and I start reading. It's the second paragraph of chapter two, and memories of the night I first kissed Clare come to mind.

"_It's a night of electric blue. She moves and smiles, and the world shatters. It's an instant, a heartbeat. But one can't escape it. In the blink of an eye, his heart is gone and it belongs to her_."

Clare is looking straight at me and I give her a knowing smile.

"_She traces tension in the air with her laughter, and he falls for her. It devours him, consumes him, it destroys him. But this kind of destruction doesn't kill him. It only mystifies him. He wants her, she wants him, but both are in denial."_

I breathe deeply as I run my fingers over the page, stopping at a paragraph.

"_It's a night of bets and hidden desire, and he knows this needs to stop. He knows he needs to win. He needs to win her. And when they kiss, their mouths are hot and needy, a blur of want. She asks the meaning of this. The meaning is everything."_

I stop reading and the crowd applauds and Clare's face is redder than ever. I can feel my own heart beating like crazy, and it's because of her. Just reading the words that describe our first kiss make me realize how much I love her. It's crazy.

I stop looking at her and face the crowd, and I smirk at them. "Did you like it? Questions?"

_**Later**_

Yes, I hate parties, but like any other agent, Liberty says they're necessary. For good press and whatever. These parties are still stuffy and fake, but I know that they don't last forever. I take a sip from my scotch (second and last one of the night, I guess) as Wesley continues to rant about my book.

"Such a great book," says Wesley in awe. "I mean, I've just read the first three pages and I'm already loving it."

"Wait until you finish it," I warn him, and Wesley laughs nervously. I look around the room and see Clare talking to (huh?) Imogen and Craig.

"I know it's great," he beams, and Bianca joins us.

"Hello," she says, her smile a bit forced. Yeah, she screwed Drew during the divorce and I kind of admire her for that, but we still dislike each other.

"Hello, Bianca, how's life?" I say conversationally.

"It would be better if that _whore _wasn't here," says Bianca angrily as she glares at Imogen.

"I didn't invite her," I say defensively and Bianca snaps her fingers at me.

"I know, Eli, I _know_," she says, rolling her eyes. Glad to know her attitude hasn't changed.

"Baby boy!" squeals CeCe and I see Bianca and Wesley walk away as my parents approach me. "Are you drinking? Why are you drinking?"

"Because I'm old enough to drink," I retort, and my mother hugs me tightly.

"That reading was amazing," says Bullfrog approvingly. "You know I don't like to read much but I might actually read this book of yours."

"Isn't that something," I say sardonically, and my dad gives me a hug. "I'm glad you guys made it."

"Only because Billy Idol is having a concert in Toronto tomorrow," winks Bullfrog.

"My heart," I sigh and CeCe shakes her head.

"Aw, Eli, you know we love you more than we love Billy," she assures me.

"Good to know," I say, sarcastically somber. Jay and Manny stop to say hi, and I talk to a bunch of people I don't know, but I just want a few minutes alone with Clare. Liberty keeps staring at me from the corner she's standing in, pretending to pay attention to what her husband is saying. I know that she's making sure I don't sneak out.

Adam walks over to me after leaving Katie to swoon over Craig Manning, and I really hope that I don't have to talk to him and Imogen. Not interested.

"Do you want me to distract Liberty?" asks Adam, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Please," I say desperately as I notice that Clare is now talking to my parents while she holds my book in her hands. I can't get over our last visit to Terrace, when CeCe decided it would be "cool" to show Clare my old baby pictures and other embarrassing stuff.

"On it," says Adam as he walks away. He starts talking to Liberty and I walk over to my parents and steal Clare away without explanation.

"Impatient, aren't we?" she says happily as we walk out of the room.

"You know me so well." I find a deserted corner and we stand there, but before anything happens, I need to ask her something first.

"Why were you talking to Imogen and Craig?" I snort.

"Oh, Craig wants me to write a profile about him," says Clare in disgust. "And Imogen was just… there. She kept throwing dirty looks at me, though."

"I just thought it was weird," I say sincerely.

"Oh, it was," she says eagerly. "Very uncomfortable."

I decide to stop talking and I move closer to her, almost shaking in excitement. It amazes me that I'm still so nervous around her although we've been dating for a while now, and I hope that this never changes.

"Finally," I mumble as I press my lips against hers. We make out eagerly for a couple minutes, and I can't wait to go back to my apartment so we can be alone.

"I can't believe you're leaving in two days," she says sadly.

"Book tours require travel, you know?" I say, kissing her on the cheek. "It's not a long trip, though. And I doubt that I will meet any pretty journalists."

"Funny," she smiles, and kisses me again.

"Clare, I've been thinking…" I say tentatively, and she looks at me. "Um… you practically live in my apartment now. So, um, what if… what if we make this official?"

"Sorry?" she asks.

"This is _me_ asking _you_ to move in with me," I blurt quickly. Clare raises an eyebrow at me and somehow I feel that I fucked up. I open my mouth to start apologizing; maybe it's too soon or something.

"Really? Are you sure?" she asks, but she's smiling again. Phew.

"No, Clare, I'm joking," I sneer before kissing her. "Yeah, I'm serious."

"Big step, Goldsworthy," she reminds me.

"I have large feet, Edwards," I grin, making her blush.

"Yeah, well… okay," she nods, and she looks excited. "Ooh, does this mean I get to redecorate or something?"

"Ah, already ruining my life."

She chuckles and I lean in to kiss her, wrapping my arms around her. She's still holding my book, and the cover digs into my stomach, hurting me.

"I need to thank you," she says quietly.

"For what?"

I let go of her as she holds out my book, her face bright with happiness. "The book, silly."

"Oh, it's not about you," I lie, waving my hands around dramatically. "How conceited of you to think so."

"Jerk," she laughs. "Well, even if it's_ not_ about me, I noticed that you're not that cryptic anymore when it comes to dedicating a book."

I smile timidly and look away, and I know that I'm blushing. "No, I'm not." We look at each other and I take her hand as we walk back to the party, her hand blazing hot in mine. Of course I dedicated it to her, why wouldn't I? And I didn't want a half-assed dedication like the ones to Julia. Because I wanted to hide everything I had with Julia, I didn't want anyone to know.

With Clare, well, it's different. She's the best thing that has ever happened to me, but I'm not the kind of guy who shouts his love for someone in the middle of the street (although I did do it the other day in the hallway of my apartment building. I was drunk. And Clare was there. I said something like "I love Clare Edwards!" Shameful, really).

But I can write about my love for her. As we enter the room she gives me a little look that she reserves only for me, and I can't help but smile at her. Because she really is the hurricane I saw in my dreams, the one I wrote about in my novels. I think of the dedication on the first page of _Shatter_ and I know that I wouldn't change a thing.

_To Clare Diana Edwards: the wallflower that became a hurricane. _


End file.
